Sophomores
by rockyyy
Summary: Sequel to "We Were Merely Freshmen".
1. Summer, 2003

**Beforehand**--This is it, Part 2 of Arnold's high school story. I really hope that you all will like the story of this year as much as you did the last one--maybe even more. I'm super excited about it and I pray that you will be too. Thanks for reading the last one, and if you didn't, don't sweat it. :) Happy reading, loves. Onward to sophomore year. Enjoy.

**Dis-claym-urr**: Craigy B's property, not mine.

---

**Chapter 1**: Summer of '03

"Whaddya wanna do?"

"I dunno, what do _you_ wanna do?"

"I dunno, what do you wanna do?"

"Let's watch the Comedy of Terror."

"But we done watched that last night."

"Then how about Omega Man?"

"I sawr that one 'bout a million times."

"Wayne's World?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Fine, _you_ pick a movie!"

"I don' really wanna watch one."

"Then whaddya wanna _do_?"

"I dunno Sid, whatever you wanna do."

"Man, dude--Harold, what do _you_ wanna do?"

"…I wanna eat!"

---

_Dear Baby Sister--_

_I was going to tell you and Mommy and Daddy before I left last week, but I just couldn't find it in myself to tell them face-to-face. I'm moving to Alaska permanently, meaning I won't be living anywhere near home anymore. I'm afraid I would have been discovered had I stayed near Hillwood, so I decided to break up with Eddie and leave. It was so very hard to do, and no one even understands--but I knew that you would, Baby Sister, and that's the reason why you're the only one who will know why I left. Please keep this secret, Helga, and please don't be bitter about me living so far away from you and our parents. This is what's best for me and for everyone else. As long as I can be a teacher, I can be happy, and that's all that matters. I couldn't risk losing that in Hillwood. Always do what makes you happy, Helga! I'll inform you of the next time I'll be paying a visit, but I'm sad to say that it will have to be a long while from now. Write me plenty of letters in the meantime. Hopefully someday I can come back, and possibly teach at your high school--wouldn't that be fantastic?!_

_Love, Olga_

---

"Ooh…Sheena, Look at _him_!"

Nadine elbowed Sheena in the ribs, hard, pointing to a tall, very tan lifeguard standing by the table on the other side of the dining room. He must have been taking a break, because he was still donned in uniform, sipping from a Gatorade bottle and talking to one of the waiters. He conversed with him animatedly, using his hands, and the smile never left his face.

"Nadine, he's probably not even in high school!" Sheena whispered, hitting her friend on the leg.

"So? You're allowed to _look_ at him. Geez, he's mad cute. So's the waiter, but _he's_ gotta be like, twenty-something."

Sheena sighed and reverted back to eating her sushi, but glanced back up to peer at the lifeguard again a few seconds later.

"Actually," Sheena began to say, looking hard at the boy, "he could pass for a senior."

"Told ya," Nadine giggled. "Make him come over here!"

"Nadine! What on earth for?"

"To talk to him, duh!" Nadine said almost too loudly.

"Nadine, I don't need to talk to him, I have a boyfriend!" she said incredulously.

The blonde girl shrugged. "He's not here."

Sheena looked over the lifeguard again. This time, he looked back at her, grinning widely. His eyes were electric blue.

She found herself smiling back.

---

The park had become her new favorite place to write. The back of it, between the stone wall and the bushes, where nobody usually stepped foot. The grass was cleaner there, and all the birds gathered in the nearby trees. Helga supposed the loud-mouthed and obnoxious elementary kids at the playground were the reasons why all the animals settled in this particular area. Despite the chirping and whistling of the robins and blue jays, Helga had complete silence as she sat there, scribbling down nonsense rhymes and dreaming up possible romantic run-ins with her beloved football-head. Wouldn't it be sweet to have him sitting atop the wall, peering down at her lovingly and admiring the way her fingers fumbled up and down the pages?

"Helga?"

It was a normal reflex; slamming the notebook shut and shooting her gaze directly upward. Standing over her, there he was, his figure illuminated by the glorious sunlight.

"What're you doing here all by yourself?" he asked, bending over slightly with one hand shading his eyes.

Pulling herself upright and hugging the notebook to her chest, Helga felt herself retort, "Wha--none of your _beeswax_, Football Head, geez, why you always gotta be so freakin' _nosey_? Am I forbidden to conjugate alone in the back of the park for a few hours' _peace_? Criminey!"

"I'm--sorry Helga, I didn't mean to interrupt any--"

"It's whatever, Arnoldo," she told him fiercely, brushing the grass off of her denim shorts. "What're _you_ doing back here then, huh?"

Arnold rubbed his bare arm and looked downward at the ground, stumbling over his words a bit as he answered, "I was just, uh--looking for you, actually, I--"

"Looking for _me_?" she said in disbelief. The anger in her tone completely evaporated.

"Gerald's out camping with his family for a few days, and the guys are gonna be working, so I just…" he looked right at her and a smile made its way into his lips. "I wanted to know if you'd like to hangout."

"Hangout?" she blurted. "With just you?"

Arnold shrugged. "Not like we've never done it _before_, Helga," he reminded her, slightly chuckling.

She swallowed, feeling her insides melting like hot lava as she did so. "Well--well, _fine_, I guess I can manage to dedicate a few precious hours to entertaining your dull--"

Arnold laughed, interrupting her. "Helga--shut up."

"_Excuse_ me?" she snapped, one hand on her hip.

He shook his head, smiling. "Come on."

Grabbing her arm, Arnold jerked his head to the right and pulled her out from behind the bushes.

---

He died two years ago that day. The eleventh of June, 2001, at seven o' clock in the evening. He'd been driving upstate to see her, because she'd asked him to come. Just for a few hours; just for dinner. No pressure. After all this time, she had finally been ready to fix it. Although she was hopeful to make it up to him, to finally reveal the truth buried beneath the façade she'd built over the years, she wasn't expecting him to accept. She just wanted a chance, and unsurprisingly, he took it. It would be the start she was hoping for.

"I'll cook for you," she had promised.

"You know I love your chicken," he had told her.

She remembered how his voice poured into the receiver, and how he argued that she should hang up first. Her throat strained. If only she hadn't invited him over; if she hadn't asked him to drive two hours on the interstate, maybe he wouldn't have been hit. Maybe that truck would have hit some other poor, unfortunate soul. Maybe he'd still be alive.

Looking at Palmer and herself now, after all that happened--it was like looking at two entirely different people. Both of them so vibrant, so happy, so full of life, and without any cares in the world. That's how he was after he divorced Kathy--that horrible bitch Kathy, who wanted him to settle in her father's business and work eighty hours a week and play soccer with his son and take his daughter shopping every weekend. Kathy, who wanted diamond rings and a Jacuzzi and designer clothes and a house in the dead center of the city with little dogs and six children. Kathy, who wanted the world in the palm of her hands, while her husband just wanted freedom. Elena could never figure out why he married her, until she took up art herself. Kathy had been his inspiration. His muse. He couldn't create anything without her…

Until he saw the truth. Until he broke free of her chokehold. Until he divorced her.

True love didn't come in a jewel-studded music box. If only he'd seen it sooner, maybe Elena would have forgiven him in time. If only she wasn't so stubborn and impatient and distrusting, they could have had their chance. If only she believed him when he said he loved her the _first_ time.

Elena Hawkins cleaned the dust off of the photograph's frame. If only.

---

"Sid! Something in the mail for ya!"

The black-haired boy slid down the railing from upstairs and hurtled into the living room. His father handed him a small postcard and settled on the couch.

"From your girlfriend, I think, there's the Eiffel Tower on that card."

Grinning madly, Sid picked it up and glanced at the writing, which was indeed Rhonda's.

_Dear Sid--_

_Paris is absolutely gorgeous! We climbed up the Eiffel Tower last night and had an overview of the entire city! We're going shopping tonight at some of the best boutiques, and I can hardly wait! I thought of you at dinner last night, while I was watching my parents eat at their own table in the back of the candlelit room. I wished it was us. I miss you, boyfriend._

_3, Rhonda_

Sid turned over the card and gazed lovingly at the photograph on the back. There was indeed the Eiffel Tower photographed on the back; fully lit and glowing beneath a midnight sky. Sighing, he guessed that the lights were shining brighter where she was.

---

Sunday. _Their_ day. If she called any day of the week, it was always Sunday. It was routine for Curly and Helga to talk over the phone on that particular day of every week. A pact not signed, but an unspoken tradition that he expected to be upheld. Summer vacation didn't make anything different. If anything, she should be calling more often. It wasn't like she had anything outrageously exciting to do. Helga's pathetic life consisted of locking herself in her bedroom and filling notebooks with fantasies and journals and novels for and about Arnold. What could she possibly be doing on a Sunday that was more important than talking to him?

---

Clouds were beautiful. Arnold had always been fascinated with clouds. Not even just clouds, actually; he thought the sky as a whole was magnificent. It was like a person, with its different moods and looks. It was inconsistent, just like people were. Sometimes it was gloomy, other times it was bright. Sometimes really light, other times especially dark. Inviting, and then frightening. The clouds just added to it, like accents or defining features. Arnold guessed that if the sky was a face, the clouds would be the eyes. During the day, at least. The stars were the eyes at night, he thought, but he didn't watch them as much as he did clouds.

"Why?" Helga asked that afternoon, turning her head to look at him lying next to her in the grass. "The stars are prettier!"

Arnold rested his arms behind his head. "Yeah. But that's it. You can't _watch_ stars. They don't _do_ anything. Clouds talk to you."

Helga looked up at the sky again, watching the lumps of cumulus float above their heads.

"Fine, _genius_, what's that one saying?" she asked, pointing to a linear-shaped cloud directly above them. It seemed to be waving slightly side-to-side.

Arnold smiled cheerily. "Hello."

---

Phoebe Heyerdahl had never seen a dead body before. She knelt before the open casket, staring wide-eyed and incredulously at her grandfather's pale, wrinkled face. It was the first time she'd seen him in ten years. She didn't imagine at five years old that the next time she'd be seeing him, he'd be lying in a casket, cold and completely lifeless. It was then that she discovered the one-word definition of life: unexpected.

Eyes brimming with tears, Phoebe bit hard on her bottom lip and stood up. She took one last look at him, and then turned to walk up the aisle to sit with her crying parents.

---

"I was wondering when you'd call."

"I'm ever so sorry, Eddie."

"No worries, lovely. How are you?"

"To be perfectly honest, I'm certain that I'm miserable."

"Miserable? Why?"

"…It's not the same."

"Of course it's not, you're in the middle of nowhere."

"No, Eddie, I mean that it's ever so different, being here without my father. And my mother's gone too…My aunt is wonderful, but I'm just so lonely…"

"It breaks my heart to hear you say that, lovely…"

"Eddie, I don't know what to do…"

"You miss it up here?"

"I do. And I miss _you_."

"Then come home."

"That's not my home anymore, Eddie."

"Home is where the heart is, Lila."

---

Contentment. Fearlessness. Total relaxation. The wide, open acres of sandy beach and the crashing of the waves heard over squawking of seagulls. Nothing to be seen for miles but the beauty of the summer.

Eugene Horowitz had never felt so safe. It wasn't that he was out of the way of anything even slightly dangerous; it was the awareness that he was, in a sense, protected. He had been promised to be kept safe. Meeting the blue eyes that he'd soon be smitten with, he knew it was real. He saw something there and he'd never seen in Sheena's--or any other girl's, for that matter. It was different--new, and alarming, but something told him--"Don't be afraid."

Those blue eyes seemed to smile back at him. He turned back around and raised his arms and hollered out towards the ocean. He had finally found himself.

---

_She's so pretty_.

Arnold shook his head several times, as if the thought could fall off of his brain, like a bothersome fly. But he looked at her again, sitting on the dock with her long legs dangling over the edge. The setting sun made the glows of orange and pink dance on her skin and in her hair, but it wasn't the perfect lighting that made her look so beautiful. There had been contentment in her countenance; something he hadn't seen in her in…forever. The scowl was absent from her face; no furrowing of the brow; instead of a purse, straight line in her lips, they were slightly parted and pink. Her blue eyes gazed heavenward, towards the slowly disappearing clouds.

"Helga…" he heard himself say. He didn't know what would follow. It didn't matter.

"What?" she asked, breaking concentration and looking at him.

Shaking his head again, he lost focus. I guess what followed her name _did_ matter somewhat. "Oh, uh…you wanna go eat?"

Rolling her eyes and rising up, she said, "About _time_ you asked that, I'm starving."

---

"Elena--It's a little later than I expected."

"You remembered."

"I couldn't forget. Do you need to talk?"

"Doctor…I actually have a favor to ask."

"Whatever I can do."

"Would you happen to still have that…painting?"

"…_The_ painting?"

"_The_ painting."

"Of course I still have it. It's hanging in my favorite spot."

"Doctor--Susan…I feel awful for wanting to ask…but would you be terribly hurt…"

"Elena…do you want it?"

"I'm sorry…it's just…I don't have any of his other works…"

"Elena, of course you can have it."

"Do you mean it, Susan?"

"Yes I do. It's more important to you than anyone else."

"Are you sure I can take it? I know you don't have many reminders of what I once was…"

"I have plenty, dear. Come pick it up tomorrow around noon."

"Noon is fine. Thank you, Susan, this means the world…"

"You're welcome, Elena…now get some rest. God knows you haven't been sleeping too well."

"You always know…goodnight, Doctor."

"Goodnight, dear."

---

The sweet, fruity taste of the Shirley Temple slid down her throat as she took note of the boy eyeing her from across the room. Dark hair, pretty eyes, freckles on is arms--he looked eerily similar to Eddie. Maybe that's why she thought he was so attractive.

He winked at her. He noticed her looking that way. Blushing, she turned her body to the table and refilled her glass. She wondered why they didn't put alcohol in these drinks, and why she felt that she needed some.

Footsteps came her way. In a panic, she whirled back around, meeting eyes with him.

"Hello, what are you doing over here all alone?" He even sounded like Eddie.

"Oh, I'm not alone, my aunt is…over there, talking with her friends," Lila answered, gesturing to their right.

"Meaning you're by yourself over _here_," the boy said knowingly, smiling.

Lila stared up at him, wide-eyed and uncertain. There didn't seem to be anything for her to say.

He chuckled. "What's your name?"

"Lila Sawyer," she answered quietly, sipping her drink.

"I'm Robbie Fin," he told her brightly, taking her free hand and planting a light kiss on it.

"You're quite a gentleman," Lila said, feeling her face get hot.

"Just a well-raised country boy," he told her. "You seem to be done with that Shirley."

"It was my fifth one."

"Want something stronger?" he asked plainly, raising his eyebrows.

Lila nodded, smiling flirtatiously. Robbie held out his arm, and she looped hers inside of it.

---

Arnold and Gerald decided not to go to the carnival. Grandma had much better fireworks stashed in the closet anyway, plus they could eat hot dogs and ice cream without having to pay three dollars for either.

The Sunset Arms was nearly deserted that Independence Day, with all of the boarders celebrating three streets over. Gerald Johanssen sat atop the grand piano and gazed reproachfully at the exploding lights in the sky. Under the bangs and booms and whistles of the firecrackers, Gerald could hear Arnold and Helga laughing and talking animatedly at the table under the tent. He believed his eyes to be playing tricks on him when he saw Arnold touch her arms and hold her gaze for a few seconds too long. He sighed. It wasn't until that night that he really noticed the spaces between his fingers.

---

The Jacuzzis closed at eleven pm. At least, that's what the sign said. Sheena stared at it in the dimly lit hall, waiting anxiously for the lifeguard to come this way and open the gate. She wondered there, in the subtle dark, why she let Nadine talk her into doing this, but she answered herself when she saw a figure coming towards her.

Because he was gorgeous.

"I didn't think you'd come," he said to Sheena, smiling. The whites of his teeth almost glowed in the dark.

"I didn't think I would either," she said truthfully, looking up at him shyly. He chuckled and pulled a key from his pocket, and unlocked the gate.

"Why is that?" he asked, walking towards the smallest hot tub. He bent down and switched the controls on. "Gotta let it heat up for a minute."

"Well, you see, I've got a boyfriend--"

"Oh?" he said, his features brightening.

"Yeah, and--I'm not sure he'd appreciate knowing that I snuck out at one in the morning to go in a Jacuzzi with an older lifeguard," she explained in a higher voice than usual.

"Well, I'm not _that_ much older," he told her knowingly. "It's not like your thirteen or something."

"Well, you're not fifteen," Sheena said coyly.

"We're both in high school," he began, "so it's not a big difference. What's your name?"

"Sheena," she answered slowly.

"Leo," he said, grabbing the end of his shirt. He pulled it up over his head, revealing his athletic abs. Sheena, in turn, untied the straps on her dress and pulled it off so that she stood in front of him in her bikini.

"Nice abs," he said to her, scanning her body.

"I could say the same for you," she returned.

"You work out?" he asked, sticking his foot in the hot tub to check the temperature. "It's warm enough now."

"I do yoga," she told him, stepping into the water. A perfect ninety-seven degrees.

"Your boyfriend do it with you?" he asked jokingly, now fully engulfed in the tub. "Want the jets on?"

"He doesn't, no, and yes, I'd like them."

"Do you feel bad about being in here with me?" he asked softly, inching closer to her in the water.

Sheena gazed into Leo's face uncertainly, unsure of how to answer. She was, yes, but then again, she wasn't.

"You must not like him that much if you're gonna be here," he said, noticing her lack of confidence.

Sheena moved forward, touching her chest to his and grabbing his hands under the water.

"You're right. I don't."

---

Why was it so dark?

Where was the table with all the food, and the lights, and the voices of Aunt Minnie and her friends?

Where was her drink? She was so certain she had it in her hand a minute ago, when she was standing by the room, up against the wall, with Robbie. But where was he?

He had kissed her, she remembered that much. And she had taken another drink afterward. Maybe two more. Or was it three? She didn't know, and she didn't recall coming into this bedroom…

When did she come in here? Why was she lying down? Whose bed was this?

Where was Robbie?

Lila asked herself all of these questions repeatedly as she sat upright beneath those unfamiliar sheets. The scent of alcohol and cigarettes swam in her head. She looked down and gasped, horrified.

Where were her clothes?

A nearby chair had a green skirt and a white blouse draped over it. She remembered wearing that when the party started. Touching her hands to her waist under the covers, she felt that her panties were absent.

Gasping as if she were drowning, Lila scrambled out of the bed, completely naked, frantically searching for her undergarments. How could she have lost them?

There they were, on the floor, by the chair. Lila snatched them up and slipped them over her legs, shifting her gaze left and right in search for her bra. It was sitting on the windowsill ahead of her. How on earth did it get over there?

Scrambling to clothe herself, Lila fumbled in the dark for the lamp, turned it on, and looked about the room. Her purse was nowhere in sight, and several empty glasses were lined on a nearby table. Shaking her head, she swung open the door and peered down the staircase. The lights were still on and cheery voices were heard clear as day. Her purse sat against the wall, the last place she remembered being. Hurrying, she picked it up and gracefully descended the stairs, hoping that her aunt hadn't noticed her absence; that she hadn't been gone that long.

Aunt Minnie was sitting at one of the tables with three other women, all blonde and big-breasted, donned in denim shorts and clutching bottles of beer. They all laughed collectively as Minnie told them some story about an ex-husband. None of them noticed as Lila approached their table, open-mouthed and waiting to talk to her aunt.

"Oh, there you are, darling," Minnie said between laughs. "I haven't seen you in hours, what've you been doing?"

But Lila didn't know.

---

He was empty. Maybe that's why he ate so much.

Harold sat in front of Mr. Green's butcher shop with a plate of sausages in his lap. He was taking a break, the worst part of his working day, because it allowed him time to think. Nothing good came out of thinking, because he always thought of Rhonda.

Rhonda Wellington Lloyd, the queen of Hillwood and his friend Sid's adored girlfriend. The epitome of perfection; everything he hated but still wanted all the same. His opposite in more ways than one; clean, beautiful, rich, and intelligent. He wanted to be like her as much as he wanted to be with her.

But he couldn't do either. Nothing was going to change the way he was, so he went on feeling empty. He went on eating, thinking that one day, he was finally going to get his fill. Harold Berman, alone and naïve, kept right on purging; unknowing that it wasn't his stomach that had been empty, but his heart.

---

Gerald had been tossing a tennis ball over his head and catching it repeatedly for about twenty minutes as he and Arnold conversed about this and that.

"Phoebe's coming home tomorrow," Gerald told him brightly, grinning madly. He'd been counting down the days since she left.

"Yeah, and Rhonda gets back on the twenty seventh," Arnold said. "Sheena and Nadine should be back next week."

"Isn't Curly home already?" Gerald asked off-handedly.

"Yeah, Helga went to see him today," Arnold answered slowly, looking at the ground.

"You don't sound too happy about that," Gerald pointed out, tossing the tennis ball at his friend.

Arnold caught it. As he threw it back, he said, "It's whatever, Gerald, he's her friend too. What, is she not allowed to talk to other guys?"

"I dunno, you've been pretty set on keeping her all to yourself lately," Gerald said slyly, throwing the ball back at him.

"Gerald, it hasn't been like that," Arnold argued, looking at him through half-lidded eyes.

Gerald laughed. "You've been hanging with her almost every day since the middle of June, man!"

"What's your point?"

Laughing again, Gerald shook his head and tossed the ball on the floor. "I told you when school let out, man. I told you, something was gonna happen with you and her."

Incredulous, Arnold threw his arms up in the air. "Nothing is happening, Gerald!"

"Sure, sure man. Whatever you say, bro."

"Gerald, I'm serious."

Raising an eyebrow, Gerald asked, "You mean you're gonna tell me that in all that time you spent with her, you don't feel anything different?"

Silent for just a moment, Arnold played it off like he was thinking it over in his head, but he really didn't need to. He knew. Gerald didn't. Then again, Gerald wouldn't believe him, so he said, "It's been really nice, yeah, but it's not like I fell in love with her or something."

"Ever find out if she loves _you_?" Gerald asked plainly.

Arnold gave a drawn-out sigh and flopped onto his bed.

"That's a no."

"Does it really matter, Gerald?" Arnold asked loudly, closing his eyes. He knew in his heart that it did, he just didn't know why.

"Not to me, man, but maybe it does to you. I think it should."

"But…why?" Arnold questioned, more so to himself than to Gerald.

"I dunno," Gerald began. "I think it's just one of those things that you should know, ya know?"

Grunting and sighing, Arnold changed the subject. "Do you think things are gonna be different?"

"What--after you find out she's in love with you?" Gerald joked.

"No," Arnold snapped. "I mean when we're all together again."

Gerald twisted his mouth. "It's only been a couple months, Arnold."

"But everyone's been like…far away from each other, and experiencing new things…"

"Why you gotta get all dark and crap like that on me, Arnold?" Gerald asked, half-laughing.

Arnold shot him a dark look and went on, "Really, Gerald. I've been kinda worried. What if everyone like…changed?"

"People don't change, Arnold," Gerald said seriously, walking over to Arnold's bed and sitting next to him. "They just show you different sides of themselves."

"I don't know if I'm ready to deal with that, Gerald," Arnold told him honestly.

"It's gonna be chill, man," Gerald encouraged him. "Everyone'll get back and it'll be like they never left."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. We'll have these last couple weeks, and then start school--and then it'll be back to normal."

---

"Helga."

She looked over at him expectantly.

"Do you think maybe…we've been spending too much time together…?"

As if, she thought. No amount of time alone with Arnold was ever enough for her. Selfish and greedy as she was when it came to him, that thought was the farthest from her mind. Shamelessly, she said, "What gave you _that_ idea?"

Arnold shrugged.

"Do _you_ think we are?" she asked quickly, fearing the answer. She felt her tone of voice giving away her anxiety.

He met her eyes and said encouragingly, "No, no, of course not. Gerald just--"

"Oh, so Tall Hair Boy has a problem with it?" she interrupted defensively.

"No, no," Arnold told her, his eyes soft and worrisome. "He just--I don't know, it's stupid. I just wanted to know if you thought--"

"_I_ don't think we hang out too much, and neither do _you_, so why's _Geraldo_ got a stick up his ass?"

Arnold turned and looked ahead, towards the water. The two of them had been sitting by the lake for hours, just talking about unimportant whatever's and nothings. Helga stared at him and observed his face: straight and soft with a hint of discomfort. The green in his eyes was dark; a sign that something was bothering him.

"What did he say to you?" Helga questioned, her voice dropping in volume.

"It's…" Arnold began, but sighed and stopped himself again. He brought his knees to his chest and rested his arms on top of them. The position he took when he was in deep thought.

"It's what?" she pressed, inching closer to him. She loved that she had an excuse to be so close.

Arnold shrugged slightly. "Gerald was saying how like…summer can like…that if I was with you too often…"

Panic bubbled in her stomach. She knew what he wanted to say, but she had to pretend she was clueless. She couldn't say it for him. She had to hear it from him.

Arnold looked extremely uneasy, but curious as well. Lifting his head slightly, he gazed toward the lake and took a deep breath.

"Helga…I know we never talked about this, and I know that maybe you forgot, or you wanted to, and I'm sorry that I'm bringing it up now, but…"

_Oh shit_, she thought, _and I thought he forgot…_

"Remember when we were like--nine?" he began, smiling slightly. "And that Scheck guy was gonna tear down the buildings in our neighborhood to make a mall complex or whatever?"

How could she forget? "Uh…"

He went on, "You helped me and Gerald by telling us everything we had to know, and then I met up you on the roof of the FTI building?"

Helga bit her lip. She couldn't say a word; she wanted to hear him say it.

Finally, he looked at her. Right in the eyes. He wet his lips and inhaled slowly.

"And you kissed me and told me you…loved me?"

Helga lowered her gaze.

"Do you remember, Helga?"

_Of course I do_. "Yeah, uh…I guess I do remember that," she felt herself say.

"We said it was like--the heat of the moment," Arnold said.

"Yeah, we did," Helga agreed, afraid of where this was going. Arnold inhaled again, more deeply this time, signaling that he was going to ask another question. If it was the one Helga feared, she had no answer. She couldn't give him the right one. Not now, anyway.

"Why did we say that?" he asked, confirming her fear. "Was it really just a crazy night, or…did we just make up that excuse…?"

_Dammit_, she thought. _What the hell am I supposed to say? Yes, Arnold, I made up that lame excuse because I knew neither of us were ready to admit it. I'm not even ready to admit it right now! _

Arnold sighed. She must have been thinking of a response too long, because he threw in the towel.

"You know what, Helga, never--never mind, don't worry about it. I'm sorry. We can talk about it when you're ready."

"But--Arnold, I--"

"Helga," he cut her off, but smiled. "It's okay. I've waited years to get this whole thing cleared up--I think I can wait a little longer."

_Oh my God, he knows_, she panicked inside her head, looking anxiously into his face. _He can't know. He can't even think that he _might_ know. Not now. Not now--_

Feeling her guard rise up, she blurted, "There's nothing to _clear up_, Arnoldo, whatever happened that night happened a _century_ ago, and it doesn't even matter anymore, so just don't worry about it or think that there's some deep meaning or something hiding from you, because there's _nothing_--so there ya go, wait's over! There's nothing, absolutely no--"

She had no idea that was coming. In a split second, his lips were on hers, silencing her completely. It took everything in her not to kiss back. She couldn't do it; she couldn't let him know that he was right. She forced herself to freeze in place, to react to his kiss as little as possible. She couldn't confirm anything. It just wasn't time yet. As he pulled away quickly, surprised by her lack of movement, she hoped he understood. If he was smart enough to believe that she might possibly feel something for him, he was probably smart enough to realize that she wasn't ready to admit it.

Shocked and befuddled, Arnold scratched the top of his head and shifted his gaze. His breath came in short gasps. "I'm--I'm sorry, Helga, I just--I don't know what came over me, I just--"

Helga hit him on the arm, shutting him up. "Don't you ever, _ever_ do something like that without giving me any warning at all, ever again!"

"I'm sorry, Helga, I just--I just--"

"Whatever, Football Head, don't worry about it," she said, rising up from her spot on the ground. He did the same. Standing inches from his face, increasing the tension only further, she suggested, "Let's just walk home, _okay_?"

Nodding quickly, Arnold agreed. With a smirk, Helga led the way to the Sunset Arms, where she would most likely be staying for dinner. As they walked, they bumped hands, and she scolded him for walking too close.

She knew he didn't really believe that this was nothing--so she had to devise some plan to make _him_ feel something, too. Glancing at his way, she caught him smiling at her. She gave a groan, but smiled back.

Maybe this mission wouldn't take _all _of sophomore year to complete.


	2. Two

**Beforehand**--As always, thanks so much for the beautiful reviews. Honestly, that's the biggest thing that keeps me going. I am so happy to be writing something that devoted HA! fans like so much. I'll continue to give this my absolute best--this series is close to my heart. On to the second chapter. Enjoy, loves.

**Dis-claym-urr**: The characters and places mentioned in this story are mostly property of Craig Bartlett--anything that is apparently not his belongs to me.

---

**Chapter 2**: Hot and Cold

Sweat dripped down her porcelain skin in glistening droplets, causing her body to shine and glow under the blazing sunlight. The muscles in her arms and legs twitched and switched, fully exposed as she was wearing only a small tank top and denim shorts. The polka dots on her bra showed through the white tank as it gripped itself tightly around her breasts. He stared at her off in the field, open-mouthed and panting like some thirsty mutt; a familiar pang of animalistic lust burning inside his chest. He watched her work silently, ignoring his pounding heart and licking his lips repeatedly, hoping she'd look his way within a few minutes. If only she'd put that stupid shovel down, she'd notice him sitting on the fence.

_Come on, baby, just a glance_...

She stopped suddenly, freezing in place like a deer listening for a hunter. She stuck the shovel in the ground and shaded her eyes, gazing in his direction.

He smiled.

She removed her hand slowly, still frozen, and before he decided to shout her name, Lila Sawyer took off; her figure shrinking in the distance as she got closer to the horizon line.

---

Sheena didn't remember Nadine's hair being this long. It must have been the fact that she always had it tied up in ponytail; she never usually wore it down. The blonde locks lay well past her bra, and the knots were a huge pain to comb through. Didn't she believe in conditioner? She was patient, though, as Sheena ran a brush through her hair, smoothing out the tangles. Not once did she flinch.

"How do you shower with this--mess on your head?"

Nadine shrugged and Rhonda answered for her, "She bathes with a _shower cap_, Sheena. You can't wash hair like that every day, it'd look horrid."

"I kinda like what the sun did to it though," Nadine said off-handedly, looking at it in a hand-held mirror. "Almost looks like I got highlights."

"Speaking of _sun_," Rhonda began, sitting cross-legged on her bed, "how was the Caribbean?"

Nadine looked over her shoulder, up at Sheena, who smirked, shrugged, and replied, "Oh, you know, it was--really fun."

With a roll of the eyes, Nadine huffed and gathered her hair back into a ponytail.

---

The flames were slowly dying. Clouds of grey smoke ascended into the midnight sky, dotted with stars that sparkled and glittered like Christmas lights. Funny thing it was, that he'd been thinking of Christmas. It'd be the next time he'd see him.

"I'm--really gonna miss you, Eugene."

The redheaded boy glanced sideways at Peter; the blue of his eyes was gleaming in what little firelight was left.

"I'll be back in the winter," he told him brightly, placing a hand on his.

"Yeah, winter," Peter repeated somberly. "But you'll be home with your girlfriend til then. You'll forget all about me--maybe not even come."

"Aw, Peter," Eugene started, inching closer to the blonde, "don't say that, I could never forget about you!"

Peter looked at him, smiling for the first time in hours. "Promise?"

"Yeah, I promise."

Hesitantly, Eugene grasped the back of Peter's head. In turn, he gripped Eugene's arm, pulling his face closer and closer until finally, their lips met.

---

There was only a week left until school started. With everyone finally back home, Arnold had thrown a party at the Sunset Arms to celebrate their last weekend of the summer before their sophomore year began. He'd put together the familiar setting of the campfire out back, in the yard, under the few stars that could be seen over the city lights. The air was cool and clear and without humidity; a beautiful August evening.

Arnold stood on the back porch by himself for a few minutes, observing the scene that lay before him: Harold, Patty, Rhonda, and Sid conversing over food at the table; Stinky and Curly playing outdoor table tennis; Nadine and Sheena and Eugene dancing by the boom box set up near the porch; Helga and Phoebe and Gerald by the fire, roasting marshmallows early. Inhaling deeply, Arnold lowered his gaze. Thankfully, after a few hours of hanging together, nothing seemed to have changed between anyone. Of course, everyone looked a little different with tanned skin and haircuts and new outfits and summer bodies, but underneath, they were the same. At least, they were the way Arnold saw it. Gerald had obviously been right--it was like no one had ever left.

---

"…and after that, we saw this _fab_ulous ballet inside the cathedral--it was to _die_ for, I took about a thousand pictures of the performance."

"Wow, that sounds uh--pretty great, Rhonda," Harold said with a stuffed mouth, trying with difficulty to sound remotely interested about her trip to Paris. Sid had practically fallen asleep on her shoulder, but she kept jabbing on despite.

"Yeah, great," Patty muttered monotonously. She laid a hand on Harold's shoulder and said, "I'm gonna go play a round of table tennis."

Rising from her spot on the picnic bench, she headed towards Curly and Stinky. "Do you wanna come?"

Harold looked over the boys and then back at Patty and shook his head. Stuffing another pizza slice into his mouth, he said, "Nah, I don't really feel like it. You go ahead."

Patty shrugged and walked off, and Rhonda took a long sip of soda. She smacked her lips and looked at Harold again, then continued on about some modeling scout she'd run into at a certain boutique.

"He said I had a great body, and a really high fashion look--" she gushed proudly.

"I'm gonna roast some marshmallows," Sid interrupted her, lifting himself off of her shoulder.

Rhonda scoffed. "_S_, I haven't told you about Christian LeBlanc!"

"Tell me later, R," Sid said affectionately, kissing her on the cheek. Harold swallowed his soda a little too fast and choked slightly.

"R? S?" Harold coughed, lifting one eyebrow.

"We use terms of endearment that aren't cheesy," Rhonda explained. "Don't you and Patty have special names for each other?"

Harold coughed even more at this proposal, and to his delight, Rhonda slid over on the bench and thumped him on the back. A small chunk of pizza was projected from his mouth and landed on the ground. Rhonda made a face and shrunk back to where she'd been sitting before.

"Sorry," Harold muttered, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "I'm not dating _Patty_! Why would I have a nickname for her? You're confusing me!"

Blinking several times, Rhonda looked at him in utter surprise. "Oh, I--sorry, Harold, I thought you were."

"What would make you think _that_?" he asked, slightly irritated.

Shrugging, Rhonda looked off into space and answered, "You aren't usually around girls, but if you are, it's always her."

"Girls don't really like me," he said apathetically.

"That's not true," Rhonda argued. "Patty obviously does, if she hangs around you so much."

"Patty doesn't really count!" Harold snapped. That definitely wasn't what he wanted to hear, but he wouldn't have expected anything else.

"And why not?" Rhonda questioned defensively.

"I'm just not interested in her," Harold admitted sadly, gripping his Coke bottle tightly.

"Well, who _are_ you interested in, then?" Rhonda asked quietly, leaning in to hear an answer. He secretly loved it when she stuck her nose into other people's business; curiosity caused her eyes to gleam and shine. He met them slowly, looking into them for a few seconds too long, and then caught himself.

"Well--it's--she's--it's--uh--geez, Rhonda--it's none of your damn business!"

Harold took his Coke and another slice of pizza and stormed off, leaving Rhonda confused and disappointed.

---

"Hey, darling."

Lila waltzed past her Aunt Minnie into the kitchen to grab something to nibble on before bed. "Hi, Aunt M."

"Another rerun of I Love Lucy's coming on," Minnie said, glancing at the television and then back down at her magazine. "Wanna watch it?"

"No, Auntie," Lila replied sweetly, popping a cream puff into her mouth. "I think I'm just going to go to bed."

"Why, honey, it's only eight o' clock!" she exclaimed, peering at her niece incredulously.

Lila sighed and shrugged. "I guess I'm just tired."

"You sure that's it?" Minnie pressed. Her nosey nature often put Lila on the spot; it was difficult to hide things from her for very long. "You look paler than an albino at Myrtle Beach--something bugging you, baby?"

She shook her head, hoping she'd just allow Lila to slink back up to her room, but of course, she had to pry further. Her aunt frowned, obviously suspicious. She set the magazine aside.

"Come here, baby, come sit down," Minnie told her, waving an arm at her. Lila wasn't very quick to oblige. "Come on, come here…that's it."

Lila settled slowly on the sofa next to her aunt, unsure of why the brush of their arms touching made her feel so dirty.

---

Patty wasn't occupied with table tennis for very long, Curly noticed. At least, she wasn't after he purposely knocked her in the back of her head with the tiny plastic ball. Lucky for him, she was convinced it was an accident after much persuasion from Sid. As she walked away in the direction of the campfire, Sid glared at Curly.

"You're lucky I'm so trustworthy," he scolded his friend, knocking the ball to the other side. "She woulda pounded you three feet into the dirt if she knew you got her on purpose."

"Nah, she wouldn't try," Curly said confidently, hitting the ball Sid's way. "Patty wouldn't do anything with Helga around."

"What the hell makes you think that?" Sid questioned in disbelief. "Helga was the one who was terrified of her!"

"Yeah, in the _fourth _grade," Curly corrected. "They're good now--Patty wouldn't hurt anything that Helga had ties with, and vice versa. It's like some 'respect' thing with them."

"Weird bully code, I guess," Sid said, pondering this. "Anyway, what's with you and Helga?"

"What?" Curly asked, confused.

"She hasn't seen you all summer, and now you're back and she's like--not hanging around you," Sid said pointedly, jerking his head towards the campfire.

Curly shrugged. He'd noticed that Helga hadn't talked to him much since he'd been home--of course, she spent the whole day with him when he got back, but afterward, they didn't speak much. Actually, they hadn't said anything to each other the entire span of the party.

"It's no big deal," Curly said, mostly to himself. "It's not like she's my girlfriend or something."

"You wish she was, though," Sid teased, hitting the ball hard over to Curly's side.

Furrowing his brow, Curly caught the ball and slammed his hands on the table. "That's totally and completely ridiculous! How the hell could I ever like _Helga_, of all people? That's the stupidest th--"

"Whoa, Curly, calm down," Sid told his friend, setting down his paddle and walking to him. "I was playin' around. I _know_ you don't like her--shit, she's really cute, but she's a pain in the ass. I don't think anyone would have the patience to be with her."

Curly nodded and patted Sid's shoulder and they walked over to sit around the fire. As he approached Helga, she grinned at him and he grinned back, knowing in his heart that for her, he had all the patience in the world.

---

He gazed sorrowfully at her, gripping her hands as he searched for words that would be of any condolence or comfort. None could be, he figured, as she kept shaking her head and breathing deeply. Her pear green eyes stared at him, practically through him, lightless and cold, and all he could think of was the fact that were opposite of Peter's. With a heavy heart, Eugene spoke the words he knew had to come.

"So, I guess this is it, huh?"

Sheena nodded. For a second, he thought she was going to cry, so he touched his hand to her face.

"Hey--it's okay. It's just part of growing up."

She looked at him, somewhat confused, and he guessed what she was thinking: _discovering that you're gay is part of all this?_

"You know what I mean," he began to explain. "We get older, we mature, we…figure out what we want…we meet other people…"

Nodding quickly, Sheena closed her eyes. "Yeah. Yeah we do. I understand."

"We both did some of that over the summer," he said, stating the obvious. She smiled weakly.

"Yeah, we did."

"You're not--mad at me, are you?" he asked, slightly worried.

Shaking her head, she grinned more confidently. "No, no of course I'm not--as long as you aren't angry with me!"

"I'm not, I'm not," he assured her, searching in her eyes for a light, but there was none.

"I just don't want it to be weird," she squeaked.

"It won't be, it's gonna be fine," he told her, squeezing her hands. "It'll be like it always was before, remember?"

"Yeah," she said, tears spilling onto her face. Tears of relief and happiness, he'd guessed. Slowly, he pulled her in for a tight hug.

"You're my best friend, Sheena."

"You're mine too, Eugene."

---

Cucumber Melon. Strawberry Breeze. Vanilla Sugar. Japanese Cherry Blossom. She mixed all four shower gels and rubbed them into the body brush, scrubbing herself raw until her arms and legs turned magenta. The scent of the fruits and flowers and food couldn't overpower that lingering smell of alcohol and it drove her insane. Although her figure was engulfed in soapy suds and emanating a gorgeous aroma, Lila still imagined dirt and sweat on her skin and under her fingernails. For twenty minutes, she scrubbed and soaped up her body and hair, and stood under the pouring water to rinse. How funny it was that the only time she felt that she wasn't drowning was when she was doused in water.

Slowly, she turned the knob sideways, cutting off the shower. She grabbed the towel and patted her face dry first, then wrapped it around her head and squeezed it damp. Shaking it off, she then clung it to her body and stared at herself in the mirror. Though it was slightly red, she didn't feel that she cleaned her skin enough. Even though she'd taken the most cleansing shower she ever had before, Lila Sawyer had never felt dirtier.

---

"Oh--my--God, you guys, Eugene and Sheena broke up!"

Rhonda pranced into the circle around the fire and grabbed Nadine's arm.

"What? No they didn't," Nadine said, incredulous.

"They _totally_ did, I just overheard them talking by the food table," Rhonda assured her, keeping her voice low.

"Oh goodness," Phoebe nearly whispered, clutching Gerald's hand. "Are they okay?"

"They were hugging when I left, so I would think so," Rhonda told her, seemingly slightly disappointed at the lack of drama. "But still, Sheena and Eugene! I thought they were gonna get _married_! I wonder what happened?"

Nadine became suddenly extremely fascinated with the flaming logs in the fire pit.

"It was _summer_, man," Gerald said. "Who knows what happened."

"I think it's better we _don't_ know," Phoebe said, shifting her gaze.

"I bet one of them cheated," Curly said interestedly, looking at Rhonda excitedly.

"I bet _both_ of them cheated," Helga supposed, although not as a joke.

"Helga, that's an awful thing to say," Arnold told her.

She shrugged. "I don't doubt it's true."

"Why you gotta be all pessimistic, Helga?" Harold asked her, annoyed.

"I think it's more _realistic_, Pink Boy," she snapped, shoving a marshmallow onto the metal rod.

"Actually guys, do it even matter?" Stinky piped up, catching everyone's eyes. "Everybody makes mistakes here and thar. Ain't it all parta growin' up?"

"Stinky's right," Arnold agreed, poking a metal rod into the fire. "Eugene and Sheena just grew up more than we thought this summer."

"Didn't we all?" Helga said sarcastically, challenging Arnold. He rolled his eyes.

"Not so much," Gerald said, eyeballing Curly and Sid, who were playing with the metal rods as if they were swords. Eugene and Sheena made their way between the two of them to join the circle; Rhonda exchanged glances with Helga and Curly.

"Well, this is a familiar setting," Eugene said brightly, after a deep intake of breath.

"Thanks, Captain Obvious," Helga droned, pulling a melted marshmallow off of the rod.

"Are we ready to make the toast?" Arnold prompted Gerald, who looked over at Sid and nodded.

Clearing his throat, Sid removed his baseball cap and smoothed out his shiny dark locks. He stood up on the log he'd been sitting on and clapped his hands together. "Well, as you all know, we start school again in like, four days--"

"Oh, I do believe it's five," Phoebe corrected him sweetly.

"Yeah, yeah, five," Sid continued. "So we've gathered here today to celebrate our last weekend of true freedom until summer vacation dawns again next year. Gerald--our man of the hour--you have the honor--take it away."

As Sid resumed his seat next to Rhonda, Gerald let go of Phoebe's hand and stood up. "Well, everybody--first, I've got to congratulate all of you on surviving the first year of high school. I say we all give ourselves a pat on the back for that, huh?"

The group in its entirety laughed and whooped in agreement; Harold and Sid began mock-hitting each other.

"Yeah, yeah, settle down, good job," Gerald said after the chuckles died down. "Anyway--I hope everyone had an exceptionally amazing summer, and here's hoping that next year will be just as good--"

The group erupted in several whoops and hollers, but Gerald quieted them with ease.

"--but until then, let us rise on Thursday morning with the confidence to embrace a totally and out_rage_ously awesome year as tenth graders at Hillwood High School."

Cheers and screeches of joy exploded among the friends and Gerald couldn't help but chuckle and release a few hollers himself, but he regained composure quickly, as usual.

"The mockery that we had to endure as freshmen is finally over, so here, to_night_, we toast to growing older, to our second year of high school…Welcome to a world of sixteenth birthdays and upperclassmen parties and later nights out and more fun than we've ever had before!"

One last eruption of happy screeches and then everyone in the gang stood about the fire with their Cokes and Sprites in hand. It was cheers not only to the fun that awaited them; it was goodbye to the doors that had closed, and hello to the ones that opened with new opportunities. As Arnold sipped his soda and laughed along with his friends, he took a good look at them, standing about the fire. Deep down, he knew they were all the same people he'd met in pre-school, but something in his heart told them that this was subject to change. There were a lot of new paths paved in the roads ahead of them, and taking them meant new experiences for everyone, and those experiences meant growing up.

Arnold sighed, feeling his smile fade a little. He hoped growing up didn't have the double meaning of growing apart.

A poke at his ribs from Helga reassured him.

---

Like the last year, Arnold and Helga began the school day together with Miss Hawkins as their first period teacher. The atmosphere and setup of the room was just like they'd remembered, only the faces occupying the surrounding desks were foreign. It didn't seem that many of the students last year decided to go on with a second round of theater arts, and the ones that did were upperclassmen that neither of them had met. However, one recognizable face was seated behind the ones Arnold and Helga chose, right by the window.

"Brainy?!" the blondes said in unison.

"Uh…hi," he wheezed, sounding a little less congested than he used to.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Helga snapped in disbelief.

Shifting his gaze, Brainy shrugged. "Uh…"

"I didn't know you took Theater I," Arnold said, sitting in front of the boy.

"I uh…had it last class," he answered slowly, adjusting his glasses.

"And you liked it _so_ much that you're taking this one with us?" Helga questioned, irked.

"Uh…yeah," Brainy huffed, smiling widely and revealing his braces.

"Perfect," Helga muttered. Arnold tapped her on the arm and smirked; his way of saying that it was gonna be fine.

---

"Where did all these kids come from?" Sid looked about himself in a panic, watching the younger students surrounding their table to get in line for lunch.

"They're freshmen, Sid," Sheena said confidently, drawing up a chair next to Phoebe.

"Boy howdy, how'd you know?" he asked, searching for some sort of distinguishing feature in the younger group.

"The school started a new policy this year," Phoebe began, smiling. "All freshmen must wear their student ID cards while the rest of us just have to carry ours around."

"Well that's pretty _bogus_," Helga said, eyeing a small group of boys. "It's like wearing an invitation for older kids to beat your--"

"Hey, guys, any more room at this table?" Arnold asked, appearing from behind Sid, who jumped nearly four feet in the air in surprise.

"Would you mind _not_ screaming, S?" Rhonda suggested, seating herself next to her boyfriend. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and took a sip of her iced tea. "You sound so much like a girl when you do that."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Sid teased, running his fingers along her arm. She grinned with her straw in her mouth.

"Would you cut the crap?" Helga snapped, casting Rhonda a dark look. "Stop flirting like your plane is going down, yeesh--it's sickening!"

"Don't be jealous just cuz _you_ don't have anyone to flirt with, Helga," Sid told her flatly, lifting an eyebrow. Rhonda looked at her friend apathetically and elbowed Sid in the ribs.

"So how's everyone's first day going?" Arnold asked loudly, changing the subject in Helga's favor.

"It's really weird," Sheena admitted first, looking over at Phoebe. "We're taking all advanced placement classes, and we've already been assigned readings!"

"Man, can you believe I gotta quiz next week in biology?" Gerald said incredulously, slamming down his bottle of water.

"Chill out, Hair Boy, I gotta take it too," Helga said, taking a bite out of an apple.

"In biology?"

"I'm in the same class with you, doi!" she snapped.

"I have my first three classes with Harold," Rhonda groaned in disgust, rolling her eyes. "I mean, seriously--starting every day off with _Harold_, three classes in a row? Wouldn't you just die? I mean--"

"Okay, R, we get it," Sid told her, half-laughing and biting into his sandwich.

"Aw, come on Rhonda," Arnold began, spreading cream cheese on a bagel, "it won't be that bad. Harold's a nice guy."

"Yeah, sure, nice," she started sarcastically. "And rude, and loud, and totally obnoxious, and completely lacking in any sort of fashion sense--"

"Like that matters," Sid interrupted.

"_You_ have no room to talk," she said to him, scanning his body up and down. "Those jeans are last season, Sid--I swear, I'm taking you shopping."

Shrugging, Sid rubbed Rhonda's back and sipped more of his soda.

"Do you like having a boyfriend, Rhonda, or do you just like having a doll to dress up?" Helga asked playfully, smirking at her friend.

"I've got _you_ for that, Helga Pataki," she shot back. Helga scoffed, knowing that Rhonda was indeed the reason why she owned the wardrobe she had.

"Guys," Sid started, "why are we missing so many?"

"We don't _all_ have the same lunch period, shrimp," Helga said plainly, like he should have known.

"Nadine, Park, Katrinka, and Peapod Kid have it fourth period," Rhonda told her.

"Stinky and Curly and Harold have it sixth," Sid added. "I think Brainy's in there too."

"What about Lila?" Sheena asked, cocking her head to the side.

"She moved, remember, Sheena?" Arnold asked calmly, but Helga could feel the heat rising up at the mention of her. Maybe that was only because it was burning more inside of herself.

"That's weird, because her name was on the attendance list in my homeroom," Sid said.

Everyone at the table spent a minute or two exchanging questionable looks until Helga spoke up.

"And _why_ would her name be on the list?"

"Perhaps it's because her father didn't bother to contact the school and let them know she was leaving," Phoebe suggested, peeling an orange.

"Why would he do that?" Gerald asked, confused.

"Either he planned on having her come back, or he wanted her aunt to go to hell and back in trying to pick up her records to allow her to transfer," Rhonda answered.

_Let's hope it's the latter_, Helga thought to herself, feeling a boiling sensation in the pit of her stomach.

---

Lila never had to wear a sweater anywhere but here. The atmosphere was free of humidity, but a chill lingered in the air, as if the place were haunted. Aunt Minnie was constantly talking about how ghosts were the reasons why any place was cold during the summer. While this thought frightened most, it came as a sort of comfort to Lila. She guessed, as she sat there in the pews, sobbing silently, that maybe the ghost of her mother was wandering up and down the aisles. She'd stay there and freeze if it meant that her mother would be with her, even only in spirit.

"Hey!"

With a gasp, Lila whirled around, sending her hair over her shoulders. Standing up and hugging herself, she peered up the aisle into the darkness, where she made out a familiar figure.

"What're you doing in here?"

The voice sounded familiar too--hauntingly familiar. She never wanted to hear it again.

"Lila? Is that you?"

"Robbie," she felt herself squeal, turning completely around.

"Lila," he said again, warmly this time. He approached her slowly. "It's past dinner time, and it's gonna rain out there--what'd you come here for?"

"Oh I've been in here for hours, I…I was--I just wanted to--" she began to explain, but stopped herself. Gazing at him quizzically in the dark, she asked slowly, "What--what are _you_ doing in here?"

"Looking for you, of course," Robbie answered, stepping closer to her.

"But…whatever for?" she asked, befuddled and slightly bothered.

"I want to be with you again," he said softly, touching her face. She pushed it off.

"Again? What--whatever do you mean by that?" she asked, her voice shaking.

He chuckled. "Lila, don't you remember that night? The party?"

She shook her head. She couldn't remember. She tried so hard to forget.

Robbie frowned. "Lila…we spent that entire evening together--we were talking, and drinking, and having fun--"

"I'm certain that I don't remember," she told him, unconvincingly.

"You don't remember?" he asked, apparently hurt by this. "You forgot about kissing me and bringing me into the bedroom?"

Wide-eyed, Lila shook her head. She did remember the bedroom, but she didn't remember leading him into it. She hadn't even known it existed until she'd woken up in it…

"Lila," he chuckled again, running a hand in her hair, "we slept together, we had--"

"No," she said suddenly, furrowing her brow. "No, no, I'm certain that we didn't do anything--"

"Lila, surely you noticed that your clothes were off when you woke up?" Robbie told her.

She shook her head. Perhaps if she denied it, it wouldn't be true. It couldn't be true. "No, no, I--don't recall--"

"You don't?" he asked mockingly, pouting his lips. "Well, I think I might have to remind you."

Lila felt extremely warm suddenly as she backed out of the pew and up towards the alter. "Robbie, I'm ever so certain that I don't know what you're talking about…"

"Oh, Lila," he began, giggling like a child, "you're such a little tease, come here--"

"No, Robbie, no, I can't--" she insisted, but he got her at the alter, pinning her against it. The wooden crucifix on the wall hung behind them; light shining from behind it.

"Of course you can, lovely," he whispered, working his hands into her sweater. "It'll be just like last time, nice and easy…"

"Robbie," Lila whimpered, shivering as he planted kisses on her neck. "Robbie, please stop, please don't do that…"

"But why? You were having so much fun last time," he said slowly, lowering his hands about her waist.

"But I don't even remember the last time," she squeaked, frozen in place. She wanted him to just lose his hands, for them to just disappear. Every place he touched on her body felt as if it were melting under that hot light from behind the crucifix…

"You'll remember soon enough," he told her, gripping her waist and hoisting her onto the table. Her body had knocked down the candles and ruffled the white sheet. His sweaty hands worked up inside her skirt, making her jolt.

"Robbie!" she screeched, but he covered her mouth.

"Shh, not another word," he warned, unzipping his jeans with his free hand. She wriggled and squirmed on the table, from underneath him, but he told her again to be quiet.

"Stop fighting it, baby," he told her smoothly, pressing himself upon her body. "You love this…"

Tears spilled from her eyes, blurring her vision completely, but she couldn't cry. She couldn't make a sound, for if she screamed, the ghosts might be frightened away. Her mother might disappear from the aisles, and she couldn't let her leave. She needed her. She needed her to save her.

"Just close your eyes, Lila," he breathed heavily, his sweat dripping onto her chest.

Swallowing hard and shaking, Lila felt him enter her, without being granted access. Suddenly all that was precious to her seemed lost, and she guessed that maybe her Aunt Minnie was wrong. Maybe her mother's ghost wasn't lingering in the church after all.

---

**A/N: **Raped in a church. Bet you didn't ever see that one before. Poor Lila.

Gay!Eugene--cliché, but working in my plot. For now, at least--all is subject to change.

Harold and Curly make me lol--you'll see why in coming chapters.


	3. Three

**Beforehand**--Okay so--If you're reading this--thank you! If you're gonna review this--thanks even more! Enjoy loves. I do my best for you all.

**Dis-claym-urr**: Surely you can determine what is mine and what belongs to Craigy B.

---

**Chapter 3**: Team Ten

"Whatcha doing?"

Gerald groaned at his younger sister. "Not _now_, Tim, please…"

"What? I'm just asking what you're doing!"

"Well, it's none of your business, so just go upstairs and play with your dolls or something."

"I stopped playing with dolls two years ago!"

"Timberly, we're just trying to take care of some homework, so it would really be nice if you could go hang out in your room for a while," Arnold told the girl charmingly. Timberly turned slightly red and walked slowly out of the room.

"Man, how do you _do_ that?" Gerald asked him, exasperated.

"Being nice isn't hard," Arnold stated blatantly as he scribbled the answer to the third question on his worksheet. Peering at Gerald's paper, he pointed to the same question with his pencil. "_That_ should be diagram four, not five…"

"_O_kay genius," Gerald said. Aggravated, he grunted, "Man, freshman year was so _easy_, but now there's all this stuff like…pre-calculus and government study…"

"You're not taking either of those, though," Arnold said, lifting an eyebrow. He copied a chart out of his biology book and nibbled on the end of his pencil.

"Phoebe is!" he exclaimed. "I dunno how she does it! She never stays on the phone with me longer than ten minutes, because she's always got some homework to do! It's _crazy_!"

"She's handling it well, though, I think," Arnold admitted, erasing the chart he'd just copied. He checked his book again to find the right one.

"I dunno _how_, I'm struggling with _my_ classes and the hardest one I got is this one!" Gerald groaned, flipping pages in his biology book. "Man, can I just copy some of your answers?"

"How are you gonna learn anything if you keep cheating off of me?" Arnold asked with a smirk.

"Let's say if you ever decide to give up on your history work, I got you," Gerald promised, looking off of Arnold's worksheet and etching the answers onto his own paper.

Arnold grinned and looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Did you fill out that survey for career development?"

Gerald stared wide-eyed up at him and ran his hand over his face. "Nah, man, dammit…I forgot all about it. When's it due?"

"Not until Wednesday, I think, but still--I looked at it and some of the questions are really weird."

"Like what?"

Arnold wrote down the answer the last question on his worksheet and set it aside. "It's questions that you don't really think about that much, like 'do you see yourself getting married?' and 'would you rather have a career you love or one that makes a lot of money?' You know, weird ones. They take forever to answer."

"Sounds like it's easy to me," Gerald muttered with the pencil between his teeth. "I can't believe we gotta take that stupid class anyway. We're in the _tenth grade_, it's not like we're thinking about _careers_ now--a lot of us haven't even started thinking about _college_!"

"I know I haven't," Arnold admitted. The thought of going away to college depressed him more than he was willing to say out loud, so he avoided the subject. "At least most of our friends are in there..."

"Man, yeah, _and_ it's the last class of the day, which makes it even better," Gerald added cheerily. "Not to mention there's that _really_ cute girl that sits in the back, mm, mm. I swear, if it weren't for Phoebe…"

"What girl?" Arnold asked, curious. He hadn't really noticed many girls at all as of late, surprisingly.

"The one Curly was hitting on yesterday," Gerald reminded him. "You know, black hair, really white…wears cowgirl boots every day."

Arnold thought, but couldn't remember, so he shrugged.

"Oh. Well. She's mad cute. Props to Curly if he scores with that, mm."

"What's her name?" Arnold asked blatantly.

"I dunno, something like Anna or Lisa or something," Gerald told him. "There's some kid in my biology class that looks _just_ like her, though. Kinda weird."

"Really?" Arnold asked off-handedly, shoving his biology book into his backpack and zipping it shut.

"Yeah, name's like, Robbie or whatever," Gerald answered, then, slyly, he added, "He sits right next to Helga in history."

"Does he?" Arnold asked, meeting Gerald's eyes. He didn't want to show too much interest; Gerald had been harping on and on about Helga and him for weeks and honestly, he'd gotten more than sick of it.

"Yeah, he told her yesterday she was cute, and asked for her number," Gerald said teasingly, hoping to get a rise out of him.

Arnold raised his eyebrows, but said nonchalantly, "She probably threatened to beat his face in."

"Actually, yeah, she did," Gerald admitted, disappointed. "Anyway, isn't that weird?"

"What's weird?" Arnold attempted to sound oblivious.

"_Helga_--she keeps getting a lotta attention from guys! Every class I'm in with her, I see 'em hitting on her."

"Helga's really funny and attractive, and a lotta people know her," Arnold explained, his tone revealing his annoyance. "Why is it such a surprise?"

Gerald shrugged. "Yeah, the girl looks good, but still…she's a piece o' work. She'll never shake that know-it-all-tomboy-bad-girl image to me."

"Maybe that's what guys like about her," Arnold said defensively, feeling his face reddening.

"Maybe that's what _you_ like about her," Gerald said triumphantly. Arnold scowled; he'd backed him into a corner with that one.

"Gerald--I never said I liked Helga," Arnold tried explaining, but knew Gerald had it figured out.

"Man, you can't hide it anymore," Gerald chuckled, tossing his books aside and hopping onto his bed. "You is crushin' on Helga G. Pataki and there ain't no denying it."

"Gerald, _honestly_, Helga's just my friend," Arnold assured him, sounding irritated.

"Yeah, yeah." Gerald cleared his throat. "Sure she is."

"_Gerald_," Arnold groaned, frustrated, but Gerald went on.

"When you gonna find out if she loves you?" he laughed.

"Why is that subject so amusing?" Arnold asked, offended. His friend frowned.

"Arnold, chill, I'm just curious," he admitted, finally being serious.

"If you wanna find out so badly, why don't you ask her yourself?" he suggested sarcastically.

"Yeah, right, like Helga would admit _any_thing like that to me," Gerald pointed out.

"Well, then--stop talking about it, it's really not that big a deal," Arnold told him, hoping he'd drop the subject.

"You know it is, so don't act like that," Gerald told him quietly.

"_Why_ is it, then?"

"Because if it's true, there goes the whole image of Helga we've had for years," Gerald told him.

"That's not necessarily a bad thing," Arnold said.

"I dunno, man--her being capable of something like that makes her almost _human_!"

"She _is_ human, Gerald, please, you act like she doesn't have feelings!" Arnold said defensively.

"I _know_ she does, man, but _she_ don't act like it," Gerald said.

"So? She doesn't have to. And so what if she _does_ love me? What difference is that gonna make? Life is gonna go on anyway, whether it's true or not, so why worry?" Arnold asked, gathering his things and heading towards the doorway. It was time he should be leaving anyway, and as much he hated to leave Gerald on a sour note, he felt like he had to this time.

"Because it's gonna change shit between you guys," Gerald said slowly, eyeing him as he approached the doorway. "Above everything else, you know that."

Arnold turned around and faced him. "No it won't."

"Sure, you say that _now_, but come on--if she confesses and you don't feel the same--it's gonna ruin everything. She knows it. Why do you think she doesn't speak up about it?"

Arnold paused, swallowing hard. He sighed.

"Because she doesn't feel that way," he said finally, more to himself than to Gerald.

Defeated, Gerald sighed and walked over to his friend. "Whatever you say, man."

The two boys did their handshake.

"See you tomorrow, Gerald," he said softly, smiling very weakly.

"See ya, Arnold."

---

Minnie shoved the last suitcase into the back of the van and pulled the door shut. Turning and facing Lila, she said, "That everything, baby?"

Nodding, Lila looked into the window and observed the luggage. That _had_ been everything.

Her aunt gazed at her somberly, chewing on her bottom lip. For a moment, Lila thought she saw tears, but remembered that Aunt Minnie was too tough for that.

"…You sure you wanna do this, baby?"

Lila's eyes probed into hers. "Yes. I'm ever so sure."

Minnie grabbed her niece by the shoulders and squeezed her tightly. She really was reluctant to let her go.

"Well you just go on and do what you gotta do," she whispered. "Okay? Tell your daddy I love him. Be good. Don't let me worry 'bout you."

"Thank you, Aunt M, for everything," Lila told her sweetly. She had done nothing that Lila had to be grateful for except giving her a place to stay, but she felt that she must say it anyway, to give her some condolence.

"Don't mention it, baby," she said as she released her from the embrace. With her hands still on the girl's shoulders, she said, "If you think you wanna come back, you know you can, at any time, okay?"

"Yes, thank you, I know I can," Lila said truthfully. Of course she'd want her to come back; Minnie had no one.

"I love you, Lila," Minnie said for the fiftieth time that morning.

"I love you too," she lied, smiling just widely enough, and then sat herself in the shuttle to the airport.

---

Helga hated history class. It wasn't the subject; she liked learning it well enough, it was just that _class_. That cold, stuffy, musky classroom. White walls enclosing around twenty four desks; a giant projector screen staring at her front and center. Sure, the teacher was a nice guy, but Helga supposed he liked hearing himself talk, because the man would simply never shut up. To top it off, there was that creepy boy that sat right next to her every day, spitting pick-up lines and complimenting her on whatever she happened to be wearing.

_Why doesn't this guy give us assigned seats? Yeesh! _Helga thought that Thursday afternoon, sinking at her desk. The boy's eyes were following her movements. Every thirty seconds or so, he'd shoot her a seductive glance, or lick his lips. When Mr. Crook announced free time to start on their homework, he rubbed his foot on the back of her leg.

"Do you _mind_?" Helga snorted finally, kicking him.

Mr. Crook had allowed them to work with each other if they wanted. The kids in the room became chatty and pushed desks together, but Helga remained still. The boy, however, pushed his desk right next to hers.

"Mind working with you? Of course not!" he beamed at her.

Helga scoffed. "That wasn't an invitation, you imbecile, so can you go harass some other bimbo?"

He giggled. "I think you're unaware of how to distinguish between harassment and flirting, Miss Pataki."

"And I think _you're_ unaware of how to take the hint that I'm _not interested_," Helga said defiantly, feeling her patience wearing thin.

"You're awfully pretty--even when you're angry," he told her, running a finger up her arm.

"If that wasn't the lousiest line I've ever heard," Helga grunted, attempting to start her work, but this kid wasn't giving up.

"I'm pretty sure I could spit some that are even cheesier," he said quietly, trying to meet her eyes, but she persisted with ease.

"Please, kid, _spare me_," she mumbled, frustrated. Normally guys give up after the first backlash--what was his deal?

"If you could just _spare me _some time, I'm pretty sure you'd like me," he told her, seeming quite confident.

"And _I'm_ pretty sure if you don't leave me _alone_, you're gonna regret ever speaking to me in the first place," Helga threatened. "So if you value your limbs, I suggest you back off."

He shrugged. Dramatically, he lowered his voice, trying to look helpless as he said, "So rip them off. They're of no use to me if I can't walk to you and hold you."

This was too much. Helga scoffed and scowled and faced the boy with half-lidded eyes.

"Listen kid. You're really testing my patience here. You're annoying and pushy and at the rate you're going, the only way you're _ever_ gonna get some from _any_ girl is if you rape the dumb bitch. And you don't wanna try that with _me_, because if you did, you wouldn't have time to finish the job. So unless you wanna die a slow and painful death, I think it best you leave me the _hell_ alone."

She finished her last sentence slowly and fiercely, a method that usually guaranteed freedom from her annoyance, but this time it just seemed to have made him eerily angry. The glow in his eyes darkened drastically, defining his features, but finally he smiled.

"Whatever you say, Miss Pataki."

"Hey--"

Helga whirled around to find Gerald, who was staring menacingly at the boy.

"Whatcha think you're doing with Helga, man?" he prompted heatedly.

"It's _fine_, Geraldo, don't--"

"Hold up, hold up," he said to the boy, ignoring Helga and looking at him hard. "Listen, boy, if I catch you in her grill again, you're gonna get it from _me_, o_kay_?"

"Geraldo, chill _out_," Helga told him, keeping her eyes on her harasser, who sat there and merely grinned. What kind of a freak was he? "I think I got the message across to him just _fine_."

Relaxing his shoulders, Gerald exhaled slowly. Pointing a finger at the kid, he said, "You better keep away from her, and I ain't playin' with you."

Nodding slowly, the boy put his hands up. "Okay, man. Whatever you say."

The bell rang; Helga's saving grace. Quickly, she gathered her books and caught up to Gerald as he headed out the door.

"Hey--Hair Boy!" she called out, grabbing his backpack.

"Wha--oh, hey," Gerald said casually, walking slower for her to get next to him. She wasn't too much shorter than him, so it was easy for her to keep up with his steps.

"What'd you _do_ that for, Geraldo? I was handling it just fine!" she asked, annoyed as much as confused. The two of them were on good terms, but never so good that he would stand up for her in a petty situation like that.

"Hey, if it was any other _normal_ person, I woulda let you handle it, but I had to step in," Gerald told her, seeming pretty honest.

"Normal person?" Helga asked, confused.

"Look, Helga, I'm sure you noticed, but just for the sake of it--that boy is _creepy_, and creepy kids like that need to be told to lay off by someone other than their target."

Probing her eyes into his, Helga felt her curiosity peak. "Well, yeah, he's _creepy_, but I'm sure he's just profoundly disturbed--not exactly _threatening_."

"I'm having our people do some investigations," Gerald started, pulling the straps on his backpack and averting his gaze ahead. "I seen him around, and what I see is no good."

Helga bit her lip, looking up at Gerald anxiously. Looking back down at her, he shrugged.

"I wouldn't worry so much if I were you, though--ain't nothing _you_ can't defend yourself against."

Helga smirked, feeling slightly more confident. This kid might have been crazy, but it wasn't like she'd never dealt with crazy ones before. Besides, he was a fifteen-year-old boy. Surely she herself was capable of doing much worse than he was.

---

"Okay then, to get started--how many of you have been married?"

The room went instantly quiet.

"Are you kidding?" Helga blurted, lifting an eyebrow.

Arnold stifled a chuckle, but cleared his throat and averted his attention back to Mrs. Benson. He'd already made her out to be an eccentric sort of lady, but putting a question like that out there at the beginning of class turned this idea into fact. She was officially crazy.

"Come on now, don't be shy, you can admit it!" she exclaimed, extremely excited. Her brown eyes glittered behind her thick-rimmed glasses.

The kids stared back at her incredulously, totally silent. Sighing, Mrs. Benson scoffed and said, "Okay guys, you know I'm only playing around--but haven't you ever imagined it? Speak up, who's pretended they were married before?"

Giggling, a few of the girls raised their hands.

Gerald spoke out, "Are you for real? Ya'll are crazy."

"Oh, can it, _Geraldo_, ever played '_house_' before?" Helga shot at him. He sank in his seat.

"That's the idea, Helga!" Mrs. Benson beamed. "That's going to be your assignment, due before Homecoming later this month!"

"You mean we gotta play house and have you watch us?" Harold asked, scratching his head.

Mrs. Benson shook her head and grinned. "No, silly boy, I'm going to pair you all off and you're going to establish a married lifestyle with your partner!"

The class broke out into groans and grunts, but Mrs. Benson waved her hands.

"Hear me out, hear me out, this will be _so_ exciting!" she said joyfully. The woman may well bleed enthusiasm if cut open, Arnold supposed. "You'll have different projects to choose from, I have the list up here--each pair will get one paper after I'm done assigning you, sound good?"

More groans. Mrs. Benson rolled her eyes and examined her attendance sheet. Running a pencil over the list of names, she mumbled a little to herself, then called out, "Okay, we've luckily got an even amount of boys and girls…I'll be pairing you up randomly. No switching partners, I'm writing down each team number!"

Arnold exchanged nervous glances with Gerald, who was crossing his fingers in apparent hope of getting to work with Phoebe. Across the room, Arnold saw Helga chewing her bottom lip anxiously. Looking around, he noticed that everyone looked equally as uncomfortable. Swallowing, he felt uneasy himself, unaware of what to expect.

"Team number one--Mr. Peterson and Miss Stein!"

Stinky looked over his shoulder and winked at Gloria, who twisted her blond curls around her finger and giggled.

"Oh please," Arnold heard Gerald mumble. Arnold sighed. The two of them were a likely couple. He hoped she would continue to make obvious choices, but when she called out the next pairing, Arnold realized that it wasn't her plan.

"Team two--Mr. Stevens and…Miss Trumble!"

Scoffing, Rhonda shot a warning look at Diana, who shrugged. Sid looked apologetically at his girlfriend, but winked at Diana when she wasn't looking.

"Team three is…Miss Heyerdahl and Mr. Blaylock."

Gerald looked incredulous as Peapod Kid cleared his throat and Phoebe turned terribly red.

"Team four--Mr. Horowitz and Miss Smith."

Eugene gulped. Patty nodded her head and smiled at the redhead, who sank quite far in his seat. Arnold shook his head, figuring this was going to be a disaster for everyone.

"Team five will be…Miss Anderson and Mr. Allen."

Sheena and Brainy waved at each other.

"Mr. Johanssen will be with Miss Applebee as Team Six; Miss Lane and Mr. Park, Team Seven; Team Eight…ah, Miss Lloyd and Mr. Berman!"

Rhonda's jaw dropped in obvious disgust, but to Arnold, Harold seemed extremely pleased. Rhonda folded her arms on her desk and pouted.

"Team nine is--Mr. Gammelthorpe and Miss Pataki."

"_What_?!" Curly and Helga exclaimed together in disbelief. Even Arnold was in awe, and, crestfallen, he dreaded hearing his name.

Mrs. Benson grinned and looked at Arnold, saying, "Well, Mr. Shortman…I suppose that leaves you with Miss Winters as Team Ten."

---

Rhonda filed her nails everywhere. In her bedroom, in her bathroom, in the living room--even on the kitchen counter, which her mother hated. Scratching noises of any kind were her mother's ultimate pet peeve, but that day, she didn't even notice.

"Yes, it's Brooke, are you calling for Buckley?" she'd answered her cellular, oddly paying no mind at all to her daughter filing away on the counter across from her.

"Oh, I'm sorry, he's getting his phone replaced right now, that's why he hasn't been--yes?"

Rhonda looked up to examine her mother, who had poured herself a glass of wine and leaned against the cabinet, wide-eyed. Whoever had been on the other end of the call was talking considerably loudly. A man's voice, Rhonda made out. She continued filing, but blinked less.

"Oh…well _that's_ a pleasant surprise," her mother said slowly, smirking. She sipped from her wine glass quickly and smacked her lips. Rhonda stopped filing.

"Yes, yes indeed--oh _yes_, he'll be _ab_solutely delighted. God knows how lonely he's been--yes, of course, I'll tell him right away…No, I'm positive that he won't mind…Well I'm sure that if Buckley's daughter was coming home, he'd want a few days off to spend time with her, too…"

Rhonda slammed the filer onto the counter.

"_Fab_ulous. Yes, yes. It'll all be taken care of…You have a lovely evening too. Goodbye."

Mrs. Lloyd closed her flip-phone and winked at her daughter, who stared back in wonderment.

"Mother, would you mind telling me what _exactly_ is going on?" she demanded, following her into the dining room.

"Rhonda, darling, what have I told you about butting into everyone's business?" she asked her, circling around the table and then exiting to the foyer. She grabbed her cardigan and purse and keys, not meeting eyes with Rhonda.

"Seriously, mother, who was on the phone? What's Daddy doing?" she pressed, impatient. From the way that conversation sounded, it was a nightmare coming true.

"Daddy isn't doing _anything_," Mrs. Lloyd assured her, shaking her head. "It's Mr. Sawyer--his little girl decided to come back home!"

---

**A/N: **I had to make up some last names for certain characters. In case you got lost up there, here's how they go--

Sheena Anderson, Nadine Lane, Sid Stevens, Gloria Stein.

As for the kids who have those odd names without explanation, I decided to be just as weird.

I figure Park is called by his last name, because honestly--what kind of a first name is that? If I'll ever have to mention his first, I've decided it'll be Christopher. He just looks like one.

As for Brainy and Peapod Kid, I think I'll make Brainy's real name Allen Allen--I love doubles, and I love it when people have the same first and last names, like Johnson Johnson. Peapod Kid's real name will be Mark Blaylock--it sounds sophisticated enough for him.

You remember, of course, Sadie Applebee and Diana Trumble as the theater classmates in the first fic. I just didn't reveal Diana's last name then.


	4. Four

**Beforehand**--(rubs eyes) Dude…I'm so glad I've got the rest of this week off. This is a much needed break; I can't stand school. My apologies for not updating too often, and as always, thanks so much for reading and reviewing. You really don't know how much that means. Again, enjoy, loves. And have a very Happy Thanksgiving.

**Dis-claym-urr**: Surely you can distinguish between what's mine and what belongs to Mr. Bartlett.

---

**Chapter 4**: Fruit Punch

Sid flicked his pencil back and forth, making a repeated tapping noise on his desk. Sighing, he glared at the clock, wishing the fifteen minutes of homeroom would hurry up, so that he could go on to his art class. His homeroom guide, Mrs. Whateverhernameis (because Sid couldn't ever pronounce it correctly), was seated behind her desk, talking to some police officer that had waltzed into the room unexpectedly while Sid had zoned out. They were looking over the attendance sheet together apprehensively.

"Just a few more minutes, kids, sorry!" she told the small group nervously, adjusting her glasses.

The cop scanned the room and pointed to an empty seat. He whispered something to her, and she froze in thought, then looked back at him and shrugged. Pocketing his walkie talkie, he looked around once again.

Striding over to the doorway, he said in a deep, harsh voice, "If any of you know the whereabouts of a Lila Sawyer, give the main office a visit."

The door slammed, and Sid stared at it with wide eyes.

_---_

"Okay_, __twerp_, so what's your career gonna be?" Helga spat at Curly, situating herself on his living room floor. She had just returned from the kitchen with a tall glass of iced tea, eyeing their questionnaire on the tea table and turning her straw in circles.

"An _actor_, of course--I can't possibly be anything else," Curly replied with a tone all too similar to Rhonda's. Helga was irked; he could easily tell by the way her nostrils flared, but she jotted his answer down anyway.

"Actor…Film or Broadway, _bucko_? Or TV sitcom star?"

"_Broadway_!" he declared, figuring it to be an obvious answer. "What do you think I took ballet for?"

"Fine, _Broadway_...I put myself down as a novelist," Helga chewed on her straw and stared at the paper for a moment.

Curly swung his legs onto his couch and snorted.

"A _novelist_."

"Yes, _Thaddeus_, a novelist," Helga confirmed, setting her glass down and flicking her pencil back and forth.

"What makes you think your books will sell?" he challenged her, irritated by her use of his real name.

"What makes _you_ think you'll be in musicals?!" she shot back.

"Fine, fine, put down novelist--let's do some _easy_ questions already!" he prompted her.

"Okay--kids."

"I said _easy_, Helga!"

"Well, _I_ don't want them, so the answer is an easy _no_," she hissed.

"What if _I_ want kids?" he practically whined.

"Have 'em _yourself_, or adopt, but _I'm_ not watching any stinkin' little--"

"Fine, fine, no kids, it'll be easier for me to be on Broadway anyway," he admitted, sighing. He'd expected something a little more fierce.

"Good. Now--place to live?" she asked, thinking he'd been defeated.

"New York City, of course, where else?"

"I was thinking Paris, or Rome, or on the coast of Sicily--"

"What the hell for?" he spat, hoping for a reaction. She was getting more difficult to crack these days.

"_Whatever_, _fine_, I'll put down New York City, yeesh!"

"What kind of house?"

"An apartment, _doi_."

"But we'll be rich, we'll have a mansion and a Mercedes Benz!" he said ridiculously. This one _had_ to get her.

"Yeah, _after_ I publish four novels and _you_ score a leading role in RENT."

Curly smirked. Not quite, but almost.

"You have a point," he said slowly, figuring he'd agree with her on _some_thing.

"Exactly. Apartment it is."

"Can we live near 42nd?"

"Whatever you _want_, Curly," she sighed, exasperated.

"So we can have kids?" he asked sweetly, mocking her. She _had_ said whatever he wanted.

"_Dammit_, Curly, I said _no kids_!" she burst, taking the ice out of her drink and chucking it at him. Finally, a suitable retort to his antics.

The small blocks of frozen water hit him spot on the chest, even though he threw his arms up to try to block them. They were cold, but only for a few seconds, and they didn't hurt. She threw pretty hard, having been a pitcher back in the day, but not hard enough to really hurt him. She could have, if she wanted to, but he knew she wouldn't. No matter how much he got on her nerves.

No matter how far he pushed her, she would never leave.

Maybe that was why he felt that way.

---

Butler Apartments, Building 6, Door 22. Last one on the left. Yes, it was the right one, Arnold realized, checking the note Isabella Winters had stuck in his locker that day. One of the numbers on the door had been upside-down, he noticed, as he rang the bell.

A large, fluffy tabby cat pounced in the window, staring Arnold down with round, yellowish eyes. He smiled; what a beautiful animal. It jumped down just as the doorknob turned.

"I didn't expect you to be on time," his class partner told him as she opened the door. Her eyes were a very light brown, almost yellow, like her cat's. She smiled slowly. "Come in, Arnold."

Arnold slipped off his book bag and set it down by the door. The cat quickly jumped on it and curled up.

"Cute cat," he said, smiling widely. He loved his pig, Abner, but he wished sometimes that he had a calm, sweet pet like that.

"Furball," Isabella stated, striding over to the couch. Arnold took a seat next to her and watched her prop her legs up on the table. "We got her to replace my brother, but that didn't work for too long."

"Replace your…brother?" Arnold asked, confused.

"Yeah," she started. "He was down south for quite a while. I thought I was rid of him forever, but _unfortunately_ he's back, for some weird reason…"

"Oh, I'm--" Arnold stammered, unknowing of how to react, but Isabella grinned at him.

"Don't worry about it," she said sweetly, smiling. Her teeth were a pearly white.

"What's uh--is something wrong with him?" Arnold said uneasily.

"You could say that," she said, smirking.

Arnold looked at her quizzically, clearly conveying his curiosity. Unexpectedly, she obliged quickly, tossing her dark locks over her shoulder and rising from the couch. She gestured for him to do the same.

"It's a story meant to hear over some fruit punch."

---

Rhonda swung one leg over the other in her lounge chair, twisting the phone chord around her fingers and huffing and puffing after nearly every sentence she spoke to Nadine and Sheena, who were listening on the other line. She'd just escorted Harold out the door after their meeting for their project, and was now engaged in a vent session via three-way calling.

"He said he wanted to run a butcher shop--a _butcher _shop, can you believe that? _That's_ his life's _greatest_ ambition. _I'm_ going to start my own clothing line and model it, I need to marry a--photographer or something! But _no_, _he_ wants to raise animals and then hack them to death and slap their carcasses on burger buns! Honestly, how revolting is that?"

"It's his _dream_, Rhonda, you don't have to devalue it," Nadine told her sensibly.

"I hardly agree with the meat thing," Sheena started, "but I _do _agree with Nadine; that's his goal, and you shouldn't belittle him, just because you don't like it."

Rhonda scoffed, taking a small bottle of nail polish and shaking it with her free hand. "He doesn't even want to live anywhere but _here_! After suggesting Milan and Paris, he goes and says 'oh, well I'd rather just stay here.' _Here_! Of all places! I love Hillwood, really, but I don't wanna be stuck here for the rest of my _life_!"

"Rhonda, it's not even real," Nadine reminded her impatiently. "You're acting like this assignment is gonna decide your whole future."

"Just try and compromise with him," Sheena encouraged sweetly. "All you have to do is the questionnaire and the essay and it's done!"

"It's a _good _thing it's not deciding my future," Rhonda rambled, playing off of Nadine's words. "I can't stand being with Harold alone for three hours--just imagining a married life with him gives me the urge to vomit. I am _so_ jealous of you, Nadine, I'd much rather work with Park…"

Nadine gave a hollow laugh. "No you wouldn't. Be glad you have someone who thinks for himself. All Park says is 'whatever you want' and 'okay' and 'sure.' He doesn't disagree about anything or have any ideas, he just goes along with all of mine!"

"And you're _complaining_?!" Rhonda burst, spreading a pale pink color onto her fingernails.

"Yes, he's _boring_," Nadine whined. "I'd even pick Brainy over him."

"Brainy?" Rhonda repeated skeptically.

"Oh, but Brainy is a pleasure to work with!" Sheena beamed. "I was really surprised, he has so many ideas, and he's easy to get along with--our project is nearly done, we just need to finish our Power Point slideshow!"

"You mean you're _done_?" Rhonda asked in disbelief.

"Well, yeah, we decided everything and finished the questionnaire yesterday."

"Damn, Sheena," Nadine groaned. "Park and I still have forever a day before we're done…if he doesn't start giving me any input, I'm just gonna do it all myself…"

"If we could trade, Nadine, I would, _gladly_," Rhonda assured her, finishing up her thumbnail. "Even _pretending_ to be in a relationship with Harold Berman is a nightmare…"

---

Isabella poured the punch into a tall, plastic cup for Arnold.

"Ice?" she asked, holding up the tray. The cubes were in the shapes of hearts.

"Sure," Arnold answered, eyeing the pieces of frozen water oddly.

"Art project," she told him as she dropped them into his cup. "We had to make our own 'cool' version of a kitchen utensil, so…I made my own ice tray."

"That's pretty cool," Arnold told her, sipping the fruit punch. "Are you really into it?"

Isabella smiled as she poured herself a glass. "Into what, art?"

Arnold nodded.

"Yeah, I am. I suppose you could call it my 'saving grace' or whatever. It's kept me sane with the family problems and all."

Frowning, Arnold felt slightly bad for asking about it again, but he couldn't help it. "You mean your brother?"

"Pull out a stool," she told him, sitting down on one herself. Wrapping her pale hands around her cup, she inhaled in preparation to speak.

"Robbie and I didn't see a lot of our parents, growing up. They weren't together--they never were officially; they were just two lonely people who got busy and twins were the result. So we started out living in Kentucky with my mom and her sister--my Aunt Lucy, who takes care of us now."

Arnold nodded, looking intently into her face. There was something strikingly familiar about the curve of her jaw line and the freckles on her arms, but he ignored it.

"My mom did a lotta drugs, when we were kids. We hardly saw her, Robbie and I--Aunt Lucy didn't let us, because she was almost always strung out. The few times she wasn't, though, she was so happy--the best mother ever. She taught me how to paint, the only thing she and our father had in common, so it was really special to me. Robbie didn't do it--he didn't like it very much, but, then again, he didn't really like anything," she confided, half-smirking. Arnold smirked back.

"But yeah, she OD'd, when we were in middle school, and that's when Robbie just kinda lost it…"

"Lost it?" Arnold repeated.

Isabella nodded. "Yeah. There were a lotta times he didn't come home, and forget about the weekends, nobody saw him. He had a really bad rep; smoking and selling weed and playing with girls, so we moved here, and checked him into rehab for teens. He stayed there until we found out that our father had died--that was two years ago, in the summer."

Arnold swallowed his fruit punch a bit too fast and felt himself choking slightly.

"Whoa--are you okay?" she asked, furrowing her brow.

Arnold patted himself on the chest and coughed a couple of more times, but then his airway felt clear again. "Yeah, yeah, it's okay--go--go on."

"Well…Robbie didn't go to the funeral…I did. I had never seen our father before, and I supposed that seeing him in a casket, knowing whether or not I had his face, would be better than not knowing at all…"

"Robbie didn't agree?"

Isabella shook her head and sipped her punch slowly. "No. He was too angry--since we found out that he and our mother were not only sex buddies, but that he was a married man too, probably with other kids…well, being the result of adultery really hurt him."

Arnold couldn't have imagined the feeling, but remembering his own father, he said, "I still would have gone to the funeral…"

"I'm glad I did. I wish Robbie didn't freak out."

"What did he do?"

"He went to Aunt Lizzie--our father's sister, and her husband--and they adopted him, but that was before."

She paused, taking another long sip of punch.

Arnold didn't want to press, but he urged after a few moments. "Before…what?"

Isabella began picking at her fingers and stared down at the counter. "Robbie…instead of going to the funeral, he went to this party. There were a ton of older kids there, and all of them were drunk, and there was this one girl that he just couldn't lay off of…"

Arnold's heart sank. "Did he…?"

Isabella ran her hands through her hair anxiously. His imagination was running wild, and he could tell he was probably right. Drunk girls are most likely victims of one particular thing.

"He got away with it so easily," she said quietly, sounding far away. "He called Aunt Liz a day or two later, asking if he could stay with her, and they adopted him officially before school started. He'd been living down there for a while, but he got emancipated from them, and now he's back here…"

"Didn't they…wasn't there an investigation?" Arnold asked, thinking of that girl.

"People didn't believe her," she said, her voice cold. "They all said things like…she deserved it, because she was acting like a slut at that party, and she was leading him on…like, she can't say she was raped because she was drunk, and she didn't know whether or not she wanted it, and she couldn't remember saying no…"

Arnold felt his skin practically crawling. "Still, that didn't give him the right to take advantage of her…"

"I know," Isabella agreed, finally looking up at him. "I had hoped that while he was down there, he would have changed, but…my girl friends won't come to my house anymore…and guys don't like to talk to me because Robbie chases them away, and my aunt just gets so sick of him that she locks herself up in her room whenever she's home, or she takes extra shifts at the hospital…"

Arnold reached across the table and patted her hand, feeling his heart ache.

"It's so…stupid," she began, tears beginning to brim in her eyes. "I can't stand him. I can't stand the person he is, or how he acts, or how he treats others, but…I love him, so much!"

Arnold swallowed, unable to make the knot that had formed in his throat sink down.

"I just want to make him good again," she whimpered, clutching Arnold's hand. "He's the only link I've got left to Dad…And I know he's a good person, he just…he just needs help, and…I wanna save him, I wanna show him he can do it…"

"You can, Isabella," he told her encouragingly, forcing a smile. "You can do it."

She sniffled. "You really think so, Arnold?"

He did. A smile got his point across.

Wiping her nose, Isabella sniffled again and asked, "Have you ever wanted to do that for someone?"

He finally swallowed the lump in his throat. "Y-yeah."

"Did it work?" she asked, obviously searching for some hope.

He wasn't able to give her that much with his answer.

"Not yet."

---

Helga groaned. She stretched across her bed to the night table to answer her ringing phone. The ID on the screen told her Rhonda was calling.

"Rhonda…what the hell," Helga asked, groggy and sleepy. "Criminey, it's four in the _damn_ morning…"

"You _have_ to listen to this, Helga." Rhonda's voice came in loudly.

"What?" Helga demanded, lying back against her pillow.

"Lila's back."

Just as soon as she laid herself down, she shot back up. Clutching her sheets with her free hand, she hissed, "_What_ did you just say?"

"Lila is back in Hillwood. Now. She got back Sunday night. She was supposed to come to school yesterday but she didn't show."

"How the hell did you--" Helga stammered, breathing heavily. She must have been having a nightmare; everything in her room suddenly appeared blurry and unfocused.

"Sid told me after school," she began, sounding extremely agitated. "A cop paid a little visit to his homeroom yesterday. Apparently her dad found out she wasn't there, and she wasn't at home, so he sent them to find her."

"_Did_ they?" Helga asked quietly, hoping to hear that they didn't; that she went missing or got kidnapped; anything to keep her away from Hillwood.

"She was at Bigal's, since, you know, she used to work there," Rhonda answered blatantly.

Helga screeched. "What the _hell_ was she _doing_ there all damn day?"

"The manager said she'd come in right before school, bawling her eyes out," Rhonda explained. "That's what my father told me, since he's in touch with Mr. Sawyer. She was freaking out, saying something about not being able to go to school--that something dangerous was here or _some_thing. She was begging her father to send her back with her Aunt."

"Hope she leaves, then," Helga muttered, ruffling her hair and drawing up her knees. "Why can't she come to school here, though? Has she finally flipped her lid?"

"I have no idea, Helga, but it sounded _bad_," Rhonda breathed, exasperated. "Like she was having a complete mental breakdown or something. Whatever it is, it's terrible, and it's apparently in our school."

"But what the hell could it _be_?" Helga asked incredulously. "Is there some--freaky three-headed dragon hidden in the basement breathing poison--or some forty-foot long snake with a death glare slithering in the sewage?! Seriously, what's her _deal_?"

"I don't know, but whatever it is, I wanna find out--just so it doesn't get the chance to mess _me_ up like that," Rhonda said finally, determined. "You should've seen that girl, Helga…She was a total _wreck_. I've never seen anybody cry like that in my _life_…"

---

**A/N: **I know the Curly-liking-Helga thing seems a little more than odd, but hopefully you can understand the reasoning with that passage there.

I hope you'll like Isabella as much as I do. I'm not sure what else I've got planned for her yet, but it'll be good.

If you hate Robbie now, just wait til later.


	5. Five

**Beforehand**--My deepest apologies for the hold-up; I've been so busy with school. Five-page papers, critiques, projects, exam preps…so goes the end of the semester. I'm so glad to be nearly finished with this crap! I'm going to have so much more free time in the next few weeks, so you all can look forward to more frequent updates. Again, I'm sorry it took so long. As always, thank you for reading, and thank you even more for reviewing. I wouldn't be writing this if it weren't for you all. Enjoy.

**Dis-claym-urr**: You know what's mine and you know what's Craig's.

---

**Chapter 5**: What's There to Be Afraid Of?

_Hi Leo, I'm sorry that I'm so terrible with keeping in touch lately. School is finally kicking in and I've been occupied with a few projects. How is school going for you? Do you know when you're transferring to New York? I hope the divorce hasn't been too difficult for you. Listen, I'm not sure when it's happening for you, but my Homecoming dance is coming up in the next couple of weeks, and I was wondering--depending on whether or not you're able to--if you would like to come here and be my date. Please let me know ASAP! _

_Hugs, Sheena_

_---_

"Arnold? Helga?"

The two blondes turned in their spots by the doorway just as the bell rang.

"Hold on just a minute, I have something for both of you," Elena Hawkins beamed, shuffling in her seat. She fumbled through a couple of drawers in her desk as Helga and Arnold exchanged knowing looks.

"Aha," Miss Hawkins said softly, holding up two packets of paper. She walked briskly towards the twosome, grinning madly. Helga smirked; it was all too easy to tell what was coming. As she closed her fingers around the packet, she glanced over the cover.

**_A Christmas Story_**

**_By Elena Marie Hawkins_**

"Auditions are every day after school next week," Elena told them sweetly, and slowly returned to her desk.

Arnold looked hopefully at Helga, so she smirked and walked out of the classroom, knowing he'd follow.

---

White walls, black trim. One big circular desk, four secretaries with computers at hand. Nurse's office to the right, Principal's office to the left. A line of chairs for waiting students against the wall, next to the entrance door. Just as she remembered it. She didn't think she'd ever be back here. She didn't want to be.

Lila blinked slowly as she waited for the secretary to finish writing her a note. The lady scribbled about ten different things on that yellow piece of paper. Her curls blocked most of the words. Lila sighed and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

Another minute, and the lady finally looked up at her through horn-rimmed glasses. "I'll give Mrs. Little a call and tell her you're on your way."

"Thank you," Lila breathed, taking the yellow paper.

"Do you know how to get to Guidance?" the lady asked as Lila turned to exit the main office.

Without looking back, Lila told her, "Yes, I can find it."

---

"I just have to survive _three_ more hours after school with him, and then we'll be finally done! Ugh!"

"Will you stop complaining, Rhonda? Yeesh, it's not like you have _Curly_ for a partner…"

"I'd even rather have him than _Harold_."

"Don't you think you're being a little _mean_, Rhonda?"

"Oh _please_, Phoebe, you have a _wonder _to work with, look at who _I_ have."

"Can we _please_ stop talking about this damn project?"

Gerald rolled his eyes and flopped his arms on the table in disgust. Arnold nodded his head in agreement; this subject was definitely getting old. However, for humor, he raised his eyebrows at Gerald and asked, "What, is Sadie that terrible of a wife?"

Gerald shrugged and began, brightly, "No, she's great, she's--"

Phoebe glanced at her boyfriend interestedly, sipping from her Capri Sun, and he stammered his finish.

"--I mean, I'd _rather_ work with Phoebe--"

Phoebe smiled warmly, satisfied, and patted his hand, then reached for her sandwich.

"--but nah, it's not like she's terrible. She's a…nice girl, yeah," he finished anxiously. Obviously desperate to change the subject, he asked Arnold, "How's--how's that Winters girl?"

Helga peered at Arnold the same way Phoebe had with Gerald, causing his brain to freeze up, but he gave an honest answer.

"Isabella's really nice, yeah. We're done with our project, actually. We made a diorama--it turned out pretty nice."

Helga gave a humph and gulped down the last of her lemonade, and Arnold smirked. He reverted back to eating his salad when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Sid was hurrying over to their table.

"S, you're late!" Rhonda scoffed, eyeing her boyfriend.

"Sid, what's going on?" Gerald asked, scanning the boy. He was heaving and huffing and his backpack was falling off of his shoulders.

Sid massaged his forehead and took a seat next to Rhonda, who started rubbing his back for comfort. Looking around at everyone, he exhaled, "Dude, Lila's here! I just saw her going to the guidance office. She's really back!"

Helga and Rhonda exchanged extremely dark looks, and Arnold looked at Gerald in disbelief.

"You're serious, Sid?" Arnold asked for confirmation.

Sid nodded, ruffling his dark hair and relaxing in his seat. "Yeah. She didn't look too happy to be here."

"Good," Helga started, annoyed, "we aren't either."

Phoebe nudged her friend and said, "Helga, be polite."

"What for?" she questioned, twisting her thermos shut. "She was probably better off in Hicktown or wherever she ran off to. She didn't _have_ to come back and make _more_ lives miserable."

Nobody seemed to disagree with this idea; Arnold especially wasn't too keen on having Lila back, but he was very curious. If she left to get away from him, why did she come back?

---

"Would you mind doing an attendance check on all of these?"

Mrs. Little peered at the redheaded girl suspiciously and asked slowly, "I could, yes…but what for?"

Lila licked her lips and shifted her gaze. "I just want to know who's going to be in my classes, that's all."

"Well, dear, it would take a few minutes," Mrs. Little told her. "Wouldn't you rather just see for yourself tomorrow?"

Lila's eyes widened. "No, please, I would rather know beforehand. If it's not any trouble."

The guidance counselor tilted her head and looked curiously at the girl in front of her desk. "My dear, if I may ask, why is it so important for you to know who your classmates are going to be?"

"It's just something I feel that I should know," Lila told her, forcing a small smile. She shouldn't have to give more reason than that.

Mrs. Little folded her hands and looked hard at Lila. "Miss Sawyer."

Lila lifted her eyebrows to signal that she was listening. A polite gesture she learned from her mother.

"Is there someone that you would rather not have a class with?"

Lila swallowed.

"Really, dear," she continued, leaning forward. "If there is somebody that you cannot be around, you can tell me, and I will make sure to refrain from putting you in a class with that person."

Lila glanced from the computer to the counselor's face and straightened her back. Firmly, she said, "Robbie Fin."

---

Arnold was in the process of yanking his stuck biology book out of the back of his locker when he felt a light punch on his shoulder.

"Don'tcha hate that?"

Grunting, Arnold rolled his eyes at Gerald and gave one more pull, finally retrieving his book.

"Why aren't you at Phoebe's locker?" he asked blatantly. Gerald never normally came to see him at the end of the school day.

Shifting his gaze, Gerald began to stammer slightly. "Oh, well uh--I told her not to wait up for me today, since I'm--mm, uh--going to Sadie's."

Arnold lifted an eyebrow.

"To work on the project," Gerald emphasized.

"Why are you making it sound all weird?" Arnold questioned, shoving his other books back and closing his locker.

"I'm not making it sound weird, it's not weird," Gerald said defensively.

"Sure it's not," Arnold pretended to agree. "You down for Game Night tomorrow?"

"You know it, man," Gerald told him, sounding more relaxed, but patted his back and hurried off down the hallway. Arnold shook his head, figuring something had to have been going on, but he forgot about it the second he headed in the opposite direction.

He had just approached the corner when something hit him straight-on quite forcefully.

"Ow!"

"Oh!" a painfully familiar voice squeaked.

Arnold shook his head and looked in front of himself. Oh man.

"Arnold? Arnold!" Lila Sawyer exclaimed, cupping her mouth with her hand. She rose up from the floor quickly and offered her hand to help him up. He flinched at her touch.

"Lila?" he said incredulously. Sid was really right, she really was back. He couldn't decide in that instant whether to jump for joy or to sink in fear.

"I'm ever so sorry I stumbled into you like that," she apologized, worried. Her doe eyes were glossy and her cheeks were slightly red. "I suppose I was in such a hurry that I didn't really realize--"

"It's okay, it's okay," Arnold assured her, shaking his head and pulling his messenger bag higher up on his shoulder. He wanted to run, to get as far away from her as he possibly could, but his curiosity held him in place. Examining her features, he asked against his will, "I…what made you--you're back in Hillwood?"

She nodded solemnly, though her face projected clear anxiety. "I--I just--I missed my father, you know. Nowhere feels like home without him, so--I--decided to come back."

"Well, he…could have moved down with you, couldn't he?" Arnold thought out loud.

"Oh he didn't want to," was her excuse. "I came--"

Footsteps echoed down the empty hall from which she came. Glancing behind her, she saw a boy approaching and turned her head back to Arnold.

"I--I'll see you around, Arnold."

With that, she hurried off in a sort of skip down the H wing. There was something about the way she jogged that was just so…cute. Shaking his head as well as the thought, Arnold sighed, wondering why the universe decided to throw this dilemma at him. He didn't even notice the boy standing right near him.

"Pardon me," said the kid politely, sporting a messenger bag like his own.

Arnold blinked a few times and met his eyes. "Oh--sorry--I--"

"Do you know that girl?" he asked before Arnold could stammer anymore.

Pointing a thumb in the direction Lila went, he answered, "Her? Oh--yeah, her name's…Lila, why?"

The boy smirked and started down the hall, past Arnold. Before he was out of earshot, he said, "Thank you."

---

Those eyelashes were so long. She _had_ to be wearing mascara. A lot of eyeliner, too. That makeup was just so thick, circling her eyes like that. The black color made the blue stand out so much. They sparkled, too. Every time she blinked. Those lashes were like wings, or something. Yeah, wings. And her eyes were bluebirds. It made sense to Gerald, somehow, since her voice sounded like chirping. Slightly annoying, but endearing anyway. He could tolerate it, as long as he got to look into her eyes.

"More soda?" Sadie asked him, probing him with those eyes. She didn't mean to, he was sure. It was just the way she looked--beautiful.

"Uh…yeah, sure," Gerald told her, pushing his glass across the counter.

"As soon as we're done with that poster, we're done for good," she exhaled. She swung her blonde hair across her shoulders as she leaned back on the counter, drink in hand. As she sipped her Coke, he noticed the soft curve of her jaw line; the length of her neck. She had a really pretty neck.

She had a really pretty everything.

"Wanna call it quits for a while?" she asked. She didn't notice he'd been staring.

Gerald shook his head and answered, "Yeah, sure."

"Okay. We'll watch a movie or something. That okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, great," Gerald told her, forcing a smile. He followed her into her living room and sat next to her on one of the couches. His arm brushed into hers and he flinched.

"Oh, not so close, Johanssen!" she joked, giggling. "Don't wanna make Phoebe too mad!"

Phoebe.

Oh yeah.

---

Helga had just warmed up a bowl of Spaghetti-O's when she heard the doorbell ring. Bob and Miriam weren't supposed to be in until late, plus they both had keys, so it couldn't have been them. She and Curly had finished their project a few hours before, and he hadn't forgotten anything, so he couldn't be coming back. Everyone else she could think of was busy, so she wondered who it was as she made her way into the foyer.

"Arnold?" she said, surprised, staring at the blonde boy on her stoop.

"Sorry Helga," he started, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Is this a bad time?"

She wanted to assure him that he wasn't intruding at all, but of course, she couldn't allow herself to be too nice.

"No, I--it's whatever, Arnoldo, what do you want?" she asked, crossing her arms. "And make it quick, I don't want my dinner getting cold."

"It's--kind of a…" he began, fearfully, swaying on the spot. Helplessly, he gazed at her, and said, "I really need someone to talk to, so--would it be okay if I--"

"Sure, sure, come on in, make yourself at home," Helga groaned with sarcasm, ushering him into her house. As he hung his track jacket on the rack and walked into her kitchen, she racked her brain. Of all people he could talk to about anything, especially something problematic, he chose to come to _her_. As she pulled out a chair for him and sat with her Spaghetti-O's in front of her, she wondered if she was the first person he decided to run to.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Helga," he started apologetically, twiddling his thumbs. "I just…I'm not sure anyone else will understand."

"What's the _deal_, Arnold?" she prompted, shoving a spoonful into her mouth.

"Well, you know how Lila's back, right?"

Figures, she thought. She should have known it'd be about her. Rather than verbally confirm it, she ate another spoonful and scowled at him.

Understanding, Arnold sighed. "I was fine, you know, without her. She left and I really didn't mind after a while. I mean, I _should_ have been happy, right? After what she did?"

Shrugging, Helga nodded. She rose from her seat and walked over to the cabinet, picked out two cups, and went to the fridge to get drinks. He needed something sweet, she guessed, so she poured him some lemonade. The strawberry kind.

"But…I saw her today," Arnold explained, watching Helga walk back over to the counter. She set the cup in front of him and he grasped it slowly. "I bumped into her, actually, literally, and…I felt all weird, like I hadn't seen her a years."

"A _good_ weird?" Helga asked, sipping her lemonade.

Before he answered, he stared intently into his own cup, as if he'd lost something in it.

"It _was_," he said finally, looking more confused than Helga had ever seen him. "And that's what scares me."

"…You still like her?" Helga probed anxiously, twisting her fingers together.

Much to her delight, Arnold shook his head. "I don't. I thought about it really hard today, and I know that I don't. But…seeing her here, knowing she's safe and happier here--it brings me comfort. I don't like her, but I care about her."

"Why's that such a problem?" she wondered, trying to sound more nosey than concerned.

"Because I shouldn't, right?" Arnold asked, helplessly. "I mean--I really shouldn't, she used me, and she treated me like meat…who still cares about someone who does that to you?"

Helga swallowed. She picked a spot on the wall in front of them and stared at it for a minute or two. Arnold was still looking at her, patiently waiting for a response. She shifted in her seat.

"You do, obviously," she said nonchalantly, sipping her lemonade again.

"But--why?"

Helga looked at him; ran her eyes over his face and studied it. He was in need of that comfort. It was okay to be soft now, for him.

"Because unlike every other selfish and begrudged asshole out there, you don't give up on mistakes. You take chances and forgive."

Apparently speechless, Arnold stared back at her, befuddled by her kind words. She continued sipping her drink like it was nothing. It really wasn't, as long as neither of them made a big deal of it. This is what friends did, right? She was a friend. A concealing, conniving, bitch of a friend, but still, a friend nonetheless. If no one else could show appreciation for who he was, she had to.

After a minute or two, Arnold gave a small smile. Lightly, he rested his hand on hers, causing her blood to rise drastically in temperature.

"It means a lot," he started softly, "to hear you say that."

"It was just high time someone gave you credit for being the overly _kind_ and _caring_ person you are, Football Head," Helga told him with a smirk, reluctantly pulling her hand away.

Grinning more widely, Arnold gave a hollow laugh. "Thanks."

"So, what, you gonna be all buddy-buddy with Lila now?" she asked, straying away from getting too mushy again.

Shrugging, Arnold got up from his seat. "I'm not gonna go out of my way to be friends with her, but--if she should need me for anything, I won't turn her away."

"Sounds fair enough," Helga told him honestly. Arnold wouldn't even turn a mass murderer away if one came to his doorstep in need of any sort of help.

"She looks like she could use her friends back, anyway," he stated.

Helga lifted an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

"I dunno, she just--something about how she looks now, it seems like she's scared," he said thoughtfully.

Remembering the phone call she and Rhonda had earlier in the week, Helga narrowed her eyes. "What could she possibly be afraid of?"

Arnold shrugged, but thought of the boy that had approached him in the hallway just a few hours before, asking about her. Looking at Helga, he thought of telling her about it, but decided it was probably nothing.

"Beats me. But--thanks, Helga," he said sweetly, pulling on his track jacket and walking into the foyer.

Rubbing her arm, the blonde girl shrugged and ushered him forward.

"No problem, Football Head. Always glad to be of services," she droned, and watched as he left through the front door.

---

Eddie Gordo poured himself a fifth glass of spiked lemonade. He stepped over the squeezed tubes of acrylic paints scattered on the floor and stood in front of the canvas, staring at its blank, white surface. The brushes were on the stool next to it. Clean and ready to create. To help create, anyway. Brushes were just tools. Eddie took a sip. He wondered if John ever came down here; if he even remembered he owned a paint set.

He set the glass down on one of the working tables. It wasn't empty yet. He went to the stool and picked up a brush. Had John ever done this? Had his mother?

He dipped the brush in the can of water and looked around for a tube of paint. He picked a beige color. Apprehensively, he made a sort of heart shape on the canvas. The lower angles made it look like a sort of face. Whose, he did not know. He picked up another brush and wet it and dipped it in black. Holding up the brush, he examined the tip of it. Too dark. He mixed it with a light brown, and it gave him a deep, rich color, like dark chocolate. He planted strokes of it around the beige shape, making what looked like hair. He picked up the beige color again and made a neck and shoulders, then a smaller brush, and composed eyes. They were brown, like Olga's and like Lila's. But he wasn't thinking of either of them, nor his mother. There were no other women in his life.

So who was she, staring at him from the canvas?

---

_Hey Sheena--things are going well. My dad's taken official custody of me, and I should be coming up to NY soon, probably within the next week. I know we'll be in Hillwood, since that's where my grandparents are, but I dunno if I'll be going to your exact high school. They live in the outskirts of town, so I might have to go to a more local school--maybe even get home schooled. Sounds cool, right? I'll see you when I get there!_

_--Leo_

_Oh, BTW--I'd be honored to go to Homecoming with you!_

---

**A/N: **That was a slow-moving chapter, I'm sorry guys. Things will get juicier within the next ones. Thanks for your patience, and I hope your interest stays at a peak!


	6. Six

**Beforehand**--Three cheers for quicker updates? Hopefully this chapter won't be as boring as the last! Much love to all you readers and reviewers, as always. Enjoy.

**Dis-claym-urr**: Idon'townHeyArnold!butIownsomecharactersinthisfic.

---

**Chapter 6**: I'm Not Sure I Wanna Wear Orange Anymore

Rhonda held the dress to her chest, examining it in the full-length mirror. The thicker straps disguised her borderline boney shoulders, but purple really wasn't her color. Wrinkling her nose, she grunted and returned it to the rack.

"That was a cute one, though!" Nadine scolded her, putting her hands on her hips.

"Nadine, purple looks _atrocious_ on me," Rhonda argued, rummaging around for a different dress.

"Go with blue," Nadine suggested casually. "Raven hair looks good with it."

"Raven hair looks good with _anything_," Rhonda said defensively, searching a different rack.

"Except _purple_, obviously," Nadine reminded her jokingly, eyeing an orange dress.

Rhonda scowled and searched through the blue dresses, picking out three that caught her eye.

"This one?" she asked, holding up a one-shouldered piece.

"Too short."

Rhonda put it back and held up a glittery one. "This one?"

Nadine made a horrible face, so Rhonda didn't even let her voice her opinion. She put it back and held up the remaining dress; not too short; a classy princess-style design. Luxurious instead of extravagant; a charming royal blue color that contrasted her dark hair beautifully.

Nadine winked. "That's a winner. I'm not sure how Sid is gonna look in blue, though."

"He's wearing black and white," Rhonda explained. "He's more of a red kind of guy, but I'm sick of red …"

"I've got Peapod in orange," Nadine started, "but I'm not sure if I wanna wear orange anymore…"

"You're too tan for orange," Rhonda told her, picking up a green dress. "Try that one instead; it's the same style as the one you picked out."

Nadine examined it on the hanger and held it up to her chest in the mirror as Rhonda did. "Yeah, I think this is much better--I'll just have to tell Peapod we're switching colors…"

"At least you aren't telling him last minute," Rhonda said.

"Can you believe there are still people who don't have dates at this time?" Nadine said pointedly. "Let's pay for these."

The girls went up to the counter to check out and Rhonda continued the topic.

"Helga hasn't asked Arnold yet, can you believe her?"

Nadine wrinkled her nose. "Helga wanted to ask Arnold? I thought she wasn't going."

"I told her she should, of course," Rhonda said, pulling out her debit card and handing it to the cashier. The lady punched in a few numbers and handed her the receipt.

"Oh, well, that sucks, because I heard Arnold was going with that one girl in our career development class…"

The cashier handed Rhonda the bag with the dresses and told her to have a nice day, but Rhonda scoffed at Nadine and walked out of the store in a huff.

"Where on _earth_ did you hear _that_ joke?"

"Curly told me," Nadine answered.

Rhonda scowled and stormed off towards the main entrance of the mall with Nadine following closely behind.

---

"It really means a lot that you brought her back to me."

"It's really no big deal, David--just the kind of thing one does on Christmas."

"So if it were any other day of the year, you wouldn't have done it?"

"Maybe not for any other guy on the street, but for you…I would do anything, anytime. Yeesh, this is like, cheese wiz out the yin yang!"

Arnold chuckled and shifted in his seat on the couch. He and Helga had been going over the script to _**A Christmas Story **_for the past couple of hours, and truth be told, he was just as tired of it as she was.

"I guess we should take a break," he said, stretching his arms high above his head.

"No kidding--got any drinks, _Arnoldo_? I'm parched…"

Arnold smirked at her and gestured for her to follow him into the kitchen. Surprisingly, it was very empty for a Friday afternoon; normally a few of the boarders would be traveling in and out in frenzies, since most of them had time off to indulge, but not that day.

"Where is everybody?" Helga asked, opening his fridge.

"I dunno, not here though," Arnold said. Noticing her reaching for a packet of salami, he held back her arm. "Uh--you don't wanna eat that, trust me."

Shrugging, Helga took his word for it and picked up a pitcher of fruit punch. "Grab some glasses, would you?"

Arnold obeyed and poured two drinks, then sat at the table with her.

"I think we've got it almost memorized," he said in reference to the script. She scowled.

"Like it was hard."

"I didn't think we were gonna get the leads again, though," he said lightly.

Snorting, Helga sipped her fruit punch. "Didn't surprise _me_. We're the only two in the drama club who know what they're doing."

"Not to mention we have the best chemistry of any pair in it," Arnold said pointedly, wiggling his eyebrows.

Turning slightly red, Helga smirked and shook her head. "Whatever you say, _Arnoldo_."

"We have to help Miss Hawkins make up a schedule for rehearsals, starting right after Homecoming."

Helga groaned. "Right. Homecoming."

"You don't sound too excited," Arnold said curiously.

"I'm not."

"Why not?"

"I didn't get _asked_."

Arnold swallowed. Pushing his drink aside, he began fiddling with his fingers, picking at the skin around his nails.

"Did _you _ask anyone?" she questioned, looking up at him.

A lump in his throat formed as he stammered, "No."

"So you're not going?"

Staring at his fingers, he answered slowly, "Actually, Helga…I _got _asked."

Helga's eyes widened to the size of tea saucers. "_What_?"

"Someone asked me," he confirmed, guiltily.

"Who asked you?" she demanded, looking quite frazzled for a simply curious question.

Licking his lips, Arnold answered, "That girl I was partnered with for the project--in our career development class."

"_Winters_?" Helga said, folding her arms.

Arnold nodded. "Yeah. Isabella."

"…And you said yes."

He swallowed the lump, but with difficulty. "I did."

"Why'd she ask _you_?"

"I--she doesn't know a lot of people, I guess, so…"

"So why'd you say _yes_?"

"I figured I'd be a good person and--why are so upset about this, Helga?" he asked, catching himself.

Apparently stopped in her tracks, Helga shrunk in her seat and rubbed the back of her neck.

"I _dunno_, Arnold, Criminey, I can't be _curious_? You're always throwing a ton of questions at _me_, why can't I--"

"Helga, it's okay," Arnold told her, grasping his drink. He eyed her as he took a slow sip, studying her furrowed brow and trembling hands. When he sat the glass down, he looked at her thoughtfully, studying her glossy blue eyes. She _really_ looked upset.

After a deep intake of breath, Helga got up from her chair.

"I think I'm gonna go now."

"So soon?" Arnold asked, furrowing his brow.

"We'll practice tomorrow, since _I've_ got nothing to do--unless _you_ have to go shopping for the dance, or something," she said bitterly.

"No, no, it's fine, we'll do it tomorrow," he assured her, worried. He ushered her to the entrance hall and opened the door for her.

"You want me to walk you, or--"

"No," she cut him off, harshly. "It's fine, Arnold, I'll just see you tomorrow, okay?"

Arnold felt his eyes stinging him as he looked her somberly and nodded. Pangs of guilt stabbed at his stomach as he watched her walked steadily off the stoop and down the sidewalk.

---

"…You're sure you wanna go _now_?"

Gerald met her gaze, wondering how he could still see her eyes in the pitch dark of her bedroom. Running a hand up and down the back of his neck, he sighed.

"I _gotta_ leave, Sadie…I told Phoebe I'd call her," he said, his voice straining. He had a rough time picking when to be a good boyfriend.

The girl frowned, although her face remained bright. Snaking her arms around his waist, she planted another kiss on the nape of his neck.

"So I'll see you on Monday?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, pulling himself out of her grasp reluctantly. "Monday."

"Want me to walk you out?" she asked politely.

"Nah, it's chill," he insisted, grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. "I got it."

She sat back down at the foot of her bed and looked him over reproachfully.

"'Night, Gerald."

"Later, Sadie," he sighed.

He showed himself out of her room and downstairs to the foyer, where he grabbed his light jacket and made his way to the front porch. He licked his lips repeatedly as he trekked down the sidewalk, hoping that there was a drink at home that would wash away the taste of Sadie Applebee's wild berry chapstick.

---

"Hey, Arnold!"

Freezing on the spot, Arnold stopped fumbling his hands around his locker and snapped his gaze toward Isabella Winters, who had been standing expectantly at his side.

"Oh--hey, Izzy," he said, trying to be bright. He gave her a smile and went back to retrieving the books he needed for his morning classes.

"Arnold," she started, rocking back and forth on the heels of her cowgirl boots, "I'd like for us to go shopping for Homecoming together, since, you know, it's only a few days away."

The blonde blinked a few times and stared into his locker, then turned to face her again.

"Yeah, yeah, you're right, we uh…we need to do that," he said, nodding vigorously, feeling out of his body as he spoke.

"Is tomorrow after school all right?" she asked, hugging her binder to her chest.

"Yeah--tomorrow's…good," he told her slowly, pulling the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder. He must have had a far-off look in his eyes, because Isabella lifted an eyebrow in slight confusion.

"You're sure?"

He opened his mouth to answer her, but saw Helga approaching down the hallway over Isabella's shoulder. Her model-status walk was accentuated by those tight, black pants; her shoulders swayed slightly, in sync with her hips. She was staring ahead of herself emptily, as if concentrating entirely on her destination. She got closer to where he stood, and noticed him, but quickly looked away, as if she spotted something revolting. Arnold sighed in defeat.

"Arnold," Isabella said, getting back his attention. He shook his head again.

"I'm sorry, Izzy, I--tomorrow's fine, really, I'll…we'll leave for the mall right after Career Development," he finished with difficulty. He looked at her with subtle disdain, but she didn't notice. She was probably too excited.

"Okay, sounds good, I can't wait!" she muttered, and turned to go off in a different hallway.

Arnold groaned and started in the direction Helga had been going. Feeling as if all his body weight lied in his chest, he trekked on to Theater Arts II, finally realizing that he definitely wasn't going to Homecoming with Helga Pataki.

---

"How about this, then?"

"_No_, Rhonda, I told you--I'm not going."

"But, Helga, this will look _adorable_ on you! Don't you think this would look _adorable_ on her, Nadine?"

"It doesn't matter, I won't be wearing it."

"Yes you will!"

"No, I _won't_. I'm not going."

"Helga, you _have_ to go. It's _Homecoming_! The dance we weren't allowed to experience as freshmen; the first step up the social ladder in high school!"

"So?"

"_So_?! This is a huge deal! You have to go!"

Helga huffed and rolled her eyes dramatically, snatching the dress from Rhonda. It was red, short, and strapless; made of shiny material, and would accent the curves in her bust.

"Come on, Helga," Nadine began. "Don't skip out. It's perfectly okay to go solo. You dance with more guys that way."

"Nadine's right," Rhonda agreed. "You can still have a great time."

Helga looked at her friends through half-lidded eyes, still unconvinced.

"Come on," Rhonda whined. "What's it gonna take to make you go?"

Helga sighed, gazing at the dress in her arms. Rhonda might be right; it probably would look adorable on her. She studied it, picturing herself wearing it, picturing Arnold's face when he saw her in it. He'd really wish he would have asked her then.

Looking back up at them, Helga groaned. "Fine. You got me. I'll go."

Rhonda and Nadine both squealed and hugged her, then took the dress and hung it up.

"This is gonna be so exciting!" Rhonda giggled, beaming.

---

"This is gonna be an effing _drag_," Sid groaned. He was examining himself in a full-length mirror at Don's Dress Shop for Men, wrinkling his nose at the dress pants Rhonda picked out for him. They had a shiny black stripe going down the sides.

Quietly, he said to the guys, "Do you think she'd be mad if I changed our order? I really hate these…"

"Sid, she'd straight up kill you," Gerald told him firmly, adjusting his tie.

"The pants don't look _that_ bad," Stinky reassured him. "They actually look kinda snazzy to me."

Sid groaned and asked, "Dude, where's Arnold?"

"Hey--how's this?"

Arnold burst out of the dressing room hurriedly, shaking the sides of his pants and smoothing out his shirt. It was very simple; clean; not too loose of a fit, but hugged his form just right. His pants actually matched Sid's, which probably made him feel better, and his tie was a golden yellow, matching exactly the dress Isabella picked out for herself.

"Well, golly gee," Stinky started warmly, "Don't mind me sayin' Arnold, but you look downright smashing."

"No homo, but I gotta agree with Stink," Sid said, watching Arnold examine himself. "If I were a girl, you're the first guy I'd want to go to Homecoming with."

Slightly red and chuckling, Arnold shook his head. "Thanks, guys. I dunno about this yellow, though, I'm not a big fan of the color--"

"Goes nice with your hair, man," Gerald told him. "Isabella's gonna go crazy."

"Yeah, that lady's gonna be on you like butter on a roll," Stinky said slyly, elbowing him.

Arnold smiled weakly. "I don't want that strong of a reaction out of her, since, you know…"

Sid and Stinky exchanged confused looks.

"It's okay man," Gerald said, vaguely. "Not everybody is going with who they wanna go with."

Raising an eyebrow, Arnold asked, "What do you mean?"

"Nothing, man, just stating a fact," Gerald told him quickly.

"Gerald," Arnold started, knowing better, "what's going on?"

"Something up with Phoebe?" Sid asked nosily.

"Nothing's wrong, guys, chill," Gerald stated, making his way back into a stall to change. Sid looked apprehensively at Arnold, who lifted his hands in question. Stinky shrugged and also went to a stall.

As Arnold undid his tie, he whispered to Sid, "Are him and Phoebe okay?"

Sid shrugged and took his shoes off. "You know more than I do, man--Gerald's your best friend, and you're so close with Helga--_she'd_ know if something was up, wouldn't she?"

"Yeah, you're right," Arnold said quietly, and made his way behind a stall to change.

---

The day before Homecoming was the noisiest school day Helga remembered enduring. Kids were shouting and chatting at ever corner of every hallway; lunch tables were crowded twice as much as usual, and teens were yelling invitations to the dance and to after parties. Balloons and posters and streamers decked the halls, declaring the nominees for the king and queen; bathrooms were full of girls bringing their dresses to school in order to gain their friends' approval. As Helga made her way to her locker at the end of the day, she overheard several upperclassmen discussing who'd be getting laid by who after the dance, giving her the urge to throw up. She scowled, twisting her combination lock to the appropriate numbers. As she shoved her books inside, she heard footsteps approaching her. Glancing sideways, she saw the last person she wanted to bump into on a day like this.

"Hey, Helga," Robbie Fin said coolly, leaning against the locker next to hers.

"Don't you get enough of me during history?" Helga asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"No amount of you could ever be enough," he told her slyly, lowering his gaze.

She scoffed. "Listen pal, I don't feel like listening to you run your mouth, so can you do me a favor and leave me alone?"

"I'll scratch your back if you scratch mine."

Helga lifted an eyebrow as she slammed her locker shut. "What the hell's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You going to Homecoming tomorrow night?" he asked hopefully, retaining his calm.

"What's it to _you_?" she snapped, fearful of what was to follow.

"Oh, so you don't mind going solo?" he asked, smiling.

"How did you--" she started, worried, but he cut her off.

"A little birdie told me you didn't have a date, so I figured I'd fix that problem for you," he told her, inching closer to her.

Stepping back, Helga laughed hollowly. "If you think for a second that I'd go anywhere--much less to a dance--with you, you're crazier than I thought."

Frowning slightly, Robbie said, "So…that's a no?"

"Doi!" Helga burst, and turned on her heel; briskly heading for the exit and praying that the boy wouldn't follow.

---

Lila ran her hands up and down her own thighs, caressing the soft, silky material of her dress. She'd be wearing it in only twenty-four more hours with fully done hair and makeup. Swaying on the spot, she imagined Eddie's hands on her hips as they would stand under dim lights, dancing slowly to a soft song. A knock on the door interrupted her brief daydream.

"Come in!" she said, opening her eyes.

Eddie came into her room slowly, eyeing her in the hunter green dress. His favorite color. He smiled.

"Wow, look at you," he said warmly, holding out his arms. She walked over to him and gladly obliged to his embrace.

"You like it?" she asked in a small voice, peering up at him skeptically.

"I'm certain I love it," he confirmed, his voice low and gentle. "Thank you, for inviting me to go with you."

"I wouldn't want to go with anyone else," she said truthfully, her eyes glossy.

Eddie smiled more widely and touched her face lightly with the back of his fingers. He kissed her forehead. "It'll be a wonderful evening."

Lila wrapped her arms about his neck and held him tightly, hoping he'd be right.

---

**A/N: **This turned out to be another slow one, I'm sorry guys. Coverage of the Homecoming dance is the next chapter though, and it's coming sooner than you think, so stay siked!


	7. Homecoming, Part One

**Beforehand**--50 reviews? Thanks guys, that's what's up!

(I'm outta school for a good month now, too, which is also what's up.)

I can't wait to work on this fic more; it's about to get exciting now, for real.

Much thanks for reading and reviewing, as always--enjoy, loves.

**Dis-claym-urr**: What's mine is mine; what's not is Craig's.

_---_

**Chapter 7**: Homecoming, Part One

_I'm coming home, I'm coming home,_

_Did you take off while I was gone?_

_I missed it all, I messed you up, I missed you._

_-- "Homecoming," Hey Monday_

Curly had his arms crossed, leaning against Helga's front door, facing the staircase. He'd been waiting for her to come down for over thirty minutes, and he was getting impatient. If she didn't have a date, why was she spending so much time getting dolled up? Not that she needed much to look good, but that was beside the point. He looked at his watch. Six twenty-three. The dance began at seven. If she was gonna be on time, she had to come downstairs now.

"Helga, hurry up, you gotta leave soon!" Curly shouted, cupping his mouth. A moment, and he let his arms fall to his sides. "Helga!" he called again.

Footsteps tapped across the floor upstairs.

"Helga?" he repeated, quieter. "Helga, are you--"

"Put a _sock_ in it, Curly, I'm ready!" she hollered, appearing suddenly at the top of the stairs.

Curly blinked a few times and adjusted his glasses, hardly recognizing the girl standing before his eyes. He examined her from toe to head and back again, completely in awe of her simple radiance. With soft curls, black mascara, and red-carpet worthy attire, he supposed she could pass for a Hollywood star. Even Rhonda could have been envious of the way she looked.

"Are you gonna gape at me all night or are you gonna let me through the door?" she asked plainly, now right in front of him. He hardly noticed that she'd descended the staircase.

"Sorry, Helga," he said, removing his glasses. "You look--really great."

"Thanks," Helga muttered reluctantly, grabbing a black jacket.

"Did you curl your hair yourself?"

"Yeah, I _did_. I'm not _Rhonda_, who's got a team of hair dressers to do it for her," Helga stated grudgingly. Curly nodded and smirked, putting his glasses back on.

"Wait--why didn't you get ready at her place?" he asked, suddenly realizing. "All the other girls are there, aren't they?"

"Yeah, and they all have _dates_, Curly," Helga told him with a sneer. "I _don't_. I'd be out of the loop."

Flushed, Curly scratched at his neck. "I could've…I mean, if you _wanted_, I would've--"

Helga rolled her eyes and smirked knowingly at him as she bent over to slip her heels on. "Nice to know you've got my back, Curly, but--no offense, I'd rather go alone than go without--"

"Arnold," Curly finished, ignoring the throbbing in his chest. "Isn't he going with some other girl?"

"The Winters girl in our seventh period asked him," she hissed. "Arnold being the _noble gentleman _he is didn't have the heart to turn her down."

"So you're only going to this dance to try and sabotage his date, right?" Curly said slyly.

"Shocking as it is," she started sarcastically, "I don't have some _conniving_ scheme mapped out for tonight. I'm just going to _try_ and have fun with our friends at our first Homecoming dance, got it?" she pointed at him with the purse she'd just grabbed.

Curly nodded in mock agreement, muttering, "sure, sure," earning himself a slap on the arm with the purse.

"Chill! Haha--chill, okay?" he said, laughing and rubbing his arm. "I'm sorry. Go have fun."

Helga smiled coolly and ushered him out the front door, where a cab was waiting to take her to the school. Curly watched from her stoop as she stepped inside slowly and turned to the window to wave at him. He waved back, suddenly wishing he could be on his way to the dance too.

---

Arnold knocked three times on Door 22. As Furball jumped in the window to peer at him curiously, he wondered if Isabella's brother was going to open the door. He didn't.

"Hello, darling," said the woman who greeted him instead. She must have been in her thirties or forties, but she looked young enough to have just graduated college. Her hair was very dark and wavy and her breasts were way too big to be real. Arnold grimaced as she gave him a suffocating hug.

"So, _you're_ Arnold, wow," she said, grinning madly. "Gosh, Izzy, I'm glad to see you've got your mother's good taste in men."

Isabella emerged from the bathroom into the living room, placing in her earrings and smiling widely. Her usually straight hair was now bouncing on her shoulders in curls, and her skin was as dark as her Aunt Lucy's. Arnold guessed they'd gone to the tanning bed together earlier in the day. She did look very pretty though, in a short, yellow cocktail dress and white heels. It was refreshing to see her without those cowgirl boots.

"Hey, Arnold," she beamed, grabbing a light jacket. "You look great, I'm so glad I picked yellow!"

"Thanks," he began, "you look great too."

Lucy grinned and pulled her niece close for a hug. Kissing the top of her head, she said, "You have fun, okay? Be careful, and stick close to Arnold. God knows those upperclassmen boys will be all over you!"

Isabella rolled her eyes. "I'll be fine, Aunt Lucy."

"Take care of this child, okay Arnold?" she went on, teasingly. "God knows she's subject to get in some trouble with her brother being who he is…"

Arnold looked troubled, but Isabella shook her head and ushered him out the door, waving goodbye to her aunt.

"I _told_ you she can't stand Robbie."

"Is he gonna be there tonight?" Arnold asked, now more worried than curious.

Shrugging, she said sadly, "I don't know, actually. I'm hoping he won't…"

---

The dance had already begun by the time Lila and Eddie arrived. She actually wanted to be a tad late, just in case _he_ decided to come early and scope her out. She didn't have much to worry about, really, since she planned on being attached to her boyfriend's hip the whole time, but what about when he needed a bathroom break, or some fresh air outside? She couldn't afford to be alone at any point, but she couldn't tell him that. She couldn't explain.

"Looks great in here," Eddie said loudly, trying to hear himself over the music.

Lila looped her arm in his, taking in their surroundings; the flashing lights, the hanging disco balls, the gigantic speakers at the front of the gym. Tons of groups of teens were crammed together, already getting into the dancing, and Lila was eager to join them. Pulling his arm, Lila smiled up at him.

"You wanna go dance so soon?" he asked, smiling back.

She nodded, locking her hand in his as she guided him to the darkest corner of the gym floor.

---

"Did you _see_ Diana Trumble's dress?"

"Oh my _gosh_, yeah, it's the most hideous thing I've ever seen!"

"I mean, really, what did she _do_, pick it out in the dark? It's like--"

"Isn't it a little _early_ to be talking shit about what everyone's wearing?"

Rhonda and Nadine averted their gaze to the girl in front of them, incredulous as to whom it was.

"Helga?!" they squealed together.

Helga shrugged and set her jacket and purse down on the table, ignoring the fact that both their dates and every other male at the table was gaping at her.

"You look amazing!" Nadine beamed, touching the bottom of her dress.

"_I'll_ say," Peapod Kid agreed, looking Helga up and down. Nadine elbowed him hard in the ribs. "Ow!"

"I _told_ you it'd look adorable on you," Rhonda said triumphantly.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Helga said, but couldn't suppress her grin. "Where's Pheebs and Geraldo?"

"Getting drinks," Sid answered her, his arm around Rhonda.

"We _would_ be dancing already, but Sheena wanted us to wait for her," Rhonda said, crossing her arms. "She has some surprise for us, or something."

Nadine smirked, and Helga raised an eyebrow.

"Oh. Great. Where's the Football Head, then?" she asked, resisting sounding too eager.

"Oh, you just missed him," Nadine told her. Standing up, she put a hand on Helga's shoulder and pointed out a spot on the gym floor. "He went over there, with Isabella. I guess they came together."

Helga swallowed, a burning sensation in her throat. She heard Rhonda groan, so Sid tightened his grip on her shoulders. He kissed her cheek, causing a small smile to crawl across her face.

"If you wanna go say hi, I'll go with you," Nadine told her, but Helga shook her head.

"Nah--I'll--" she glanced over in Arnold's direction, and he looked back quizzically. He probably didn't realize it was her. She sighed, and finished, "I'll just wait to see what Sheena's got."

---

"Oh, this is delicious, try this Gerald!" Phoebe squeaked, holding up a stick with fruit stuck to it.

Gerald wrinkled his nose, eyeing it suspiciously. "What is it?"

"A fruit-ka-bob," she giggled, picking an apple slice off it. "You should try some."

"Only if you feed it to me," he said, winking. He sat down in his chair as she laughed stood up, holding the stick over his head.

"You ready?"

"I'm ready, baby," he said between laughs, staring up at the stick. The fruit was surely going to fall off.

"Here comes the train," she mocked, shaking the stick. Gerald opened his mouth a little too late, and the pieces fell onto his face. Gerald scoffed as sugar and juices stuck to his nose and cheeks.

"Oh, I'm sorry Gerald!" Phoebe said, laughing and grabbing a napkin.

"I got it, Pheebs," Gerald said, but she shook her head.

"I'll do it for you," she insisted, sitting on his lap.

He laughed and wrapped his arms around her back and legs, but wriggled around as she wiped the napkin all over his face.

"Phoebe! Pheebs, stop it!" he begged, laughing so hard that it made her laugh, too. Phoebe finally removed the napkin from his face, grinned at him, and kissed his cheek.

"Oh, I think you missed a spot," he joked.

"Really?" she said skeptically, smirking. "Where?"

"Right here," he said quietly, pointing to his lips.

Phoebe grinned. "Oh dear, how could I have missed that?"

Slowly, they kissed, totally wrapped up in each other, but were interrupted. Someone right near them had cleared their throat obnoxiously enough to startle them.

Gerald and Phoebe broke apart suddenly, facing the girl that had just sat down right near them. Gerald felt his heart sink. Those eyes again, like bluebirds.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so rude," Sadie Applebee apologized, not sounding very sorry at all as she looked Phoebe over. "I just wanted to um--ask Gerald for a dance, later on."

Phoebe raised her eyebrows so high that they disappeared into her bangs.

"If that's okay with you, of course," she added, semi-sweetly.

Phoebe shrugged and looked questioningly at her boyfriend, who felt a few knots tying themselves in his stomach.

"It's okay with me, if you want to," Phoebe told him, straightening his tie.

"Yeah," he started, nodding at both girls. "Yeah, just--grab me whenever, okay Sadie?"

The blonde girl nodded and smiled, batting the wings that were her eyelashes, and took off to meet her friends on the dance floor. Gerald swallowed hard as he watched her walk away, forgetting for a moment that his girlfriend was inches away from his face.

---

"Hey you guys!"

Every head at the table turned to face Sheena, who looked very sleek and pretty in a black tea dress. Her arm was entwined with a tall, tan boy's, who appeared to be older than most others in the room. He flashed a smile as they approached her friends, revealing a set of pearly white teeth.

"Hey," Rhonda said first, eyeing Sheena's date. Sid scowled.

"Guys, this is Leo," Sheena introduced him, glowing. "I met him over the summer, he was a lifeguard on our cruise ship!"

Her friends all exchanged looks, and Rhonda grinned madly up at the boy. Holding out her hand, she said politely, "I'm Rhonda Lloyd--pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine," Leo insisted, winking at her. Sid cleared his throat obnoxiously.

"I'm Sid Stevens," he said, shaking Leo's hand right after. Sneering at Rhonda, he added, "Rhonda's _boyfriend_."

Sheena giggled and pointed to everyone else, who waved as she said their names. "There's Helga, and Stinky, Gloria, Peapod Kid, Harold, Patty--and you met Nadine."

Nadine smiled sweetly and wiggled her fingers at him.

"And I'm not sure where Arnold is, and Gerald and Phoebe are off somewhere," she added.

"Well, I'll meet them sooner or later if not tonight," Leo told her, winking. She giggled.

"How long are you visiting for?" Rhonda asked, clearly very interested.

"He's moving here!" Sheena exclaimed, giving his arm a squeeze. He nodded enthusiastically.

Rhonda opened her mouth in disbelief. "He's moving to _Hillwood_? Sheena, why didn't you say anything before?"

"It was part of the surprise," she told them, shrugging.

"I'll be home schooled, but I'll be hanging around Sheena, so I'm sure you'll be seeing me around a lot," Leo insisted.

"Oh, we won't mind that," Rhonda said lowly, ignoring Sid's grunts.

"Well, we've been anxious to get dancing, so, if you'd excuse us," Sid said fervently, grabbing Rhonda's arm and yanking her out of her seat.

"We've all been, I reckon," Stinky said aloud, rising up. Gloria and the rest of them followed suit.

"Oh, I'm sorry I kept you waiting," Sheena apologized, tapping Nadine's shoulder, but her friend shook her head.

"No prob--let's just get out there, they're playing my song!"

Sheena grinned and watched as her friends hit the floor, except one of them. Leo tugged at her hand, but she pulled away.

"Hold on just a sec," she said sweetly. Seating herself next to Helga, she placed her hand on her leg. "What's the matter, Helga?"

"What?" Helga asked, snapping out of it. She'd been sitting there, spacing out.

"You okay? You don't look too happy," Sheena said, concerned.

Helga shrugged. "No problem, Sheena, I'm just--"

Sheena searched her face and twisted her mouth. "Helga, come on, come dance with us--you can dance with Leo, if you'd like. I'm sure he won't mind."

She looked over her shoulder at her date, who wiggled his eyebrows and grinned almost wickedly. Helga glanced from him back to Sheena uncertainly.

Rubbing her knee, Sheena smiled encouragingly. "Come on, let's go have fun--it's okay."

Helga smiled slightly. Not enthusiastically, but convincingly enough to allow Sheena and Leo take both of her hands and guide her under the flashing lights.

---

Arnold was thoroughly annoyed by this song. Actually, Arnold was thoroughly annoyed by Justin Timberlake himself. He couldn't decide if it was because he ditched his boy band to work on solo projects, or if it was just that his music was sickeningly poppy and easily stuck in everyone's head. Either way, he really couldn't stand any of it, and "Cry Me a River" was the worst. So when Isabella pulled him across the floor to dance to it, he couldn't help but feel extremely irritated.

She took his hands in hers and circled her waist, coming in closer to him and then backing away in fluid motions. He moved along with her reluctantly, sighing.

"What's the matter?" she giggled. "Don't like this song?"

"Not really, no," Arnold told her politely.

"Aw, wanna just wait it out?" she asked. He nodded. Smiling, she said, "Okay. Let's go back to the table."

Isabella guided him to the table his friends had been occupying, but it was empty now. Everyone was either on the floor or grabbing refreshments. Taking a seat, Arnold exhaled deeply, scanning the crowd, involuntarily looking for Helga. Surely enough, he spotted her dancing with who appeared to be Lila's boyfriend, Eddie Gordo, dressed in black with a hunter green tie. Arnold furrowed his brow; why would she be dancing with _him_?

"Something wrong, Arnold?"

Blinking, Arnold sunk against the table. "Nothing, Izzy, it's just…"

Isabella followed his gaze, finally spotting the girl he'd been looking at. Smiling slowly, she asked, "You wanted to ask her, didn't you?"

Arnold looked up at her quizzically. "What?"

"Helga Pataki," she said. "You wanted to go with her tonight."

Arnold sat up and straightened his tie, shaking his head. "No, Izzy, I--"

Giggling, Isabella patted his shoulder. "You don't have to make anything up, Arnold. You wanted to ask Helga, didn't you?"

He didn't have to answer; his pout gave it away completely. Folding his arms across his chest, he sighed deeply.

"You should have _asked_ her, Arnold!" she scolded him, hitting him on the shoulder. He flinched back, caught by surprise. "You should have told me you wanted to when I asked you! Why didn't you speak up?"

"I didn't want to disappoint you!" Arnold said defensively.

"I would have understood if you had explained yourself," she told him, crossing her arms. "How do you know she wasn't gonna say yes?"

"She doesn't look too upset about it now," he groaned, eyeing the way Helga moved closely around Eddie.

"How do you know she wasn't dying to go with you tonight?"

Arnold bit his lip. Dolefully, he gazed at the girl across the gym floor. Sure, she _seemed_ really happy, but he knew better. Helga was a fabulous actress.

"You should go talk to her. Dance with her. _She_ should be the one here with you tonight, not me," Isabella said knowingly. Rising up, she smoothed out her dress and excused herself to the bathroom, leaving Arnold to his thoughts.

---

The hallways were deserted and unsupervised, making them the ideal place for some alone time. Eddie and Lila utilized their given space to kiss and hold each other as if their plane was going down, thinking that no one would possibly catch them. The bathrooms were down the opposite hall anyway, so they should have been free of disturbances, but a screech from around the corner caused them both to jump.

"_Hey_!"

Eddie and Lila broke apart instantly, facing the silhouette ten feet away.

"You get off her right now, right _now_!" a female voice said loudly, menacingly. She was running towards them as if she were about to attack. As she got closer, Eddie took note of a yellow dress and flowing dark hair.

"Hey, hey, chill out, honey," Eddie said relatively calmly. He gestured to Lila, who was wide-eyed and afraid. "This is my girlfriend."

"_Girlfriend_? You don't _have_ one, you--" the girl stopped dead in her tracks. The light from the nearby window shined over the three of them, clearly revealing their faces.

She shook her head vigorously, turning red from embarrassment. "Oh, I'm sorry, I--you look just like--I thought you were someone else, I'm so sorry!"

As soon as she managed to spit out her apology, the girl turned on her heel and ran around the same corner she came from.

Lila looked from her boyfriend to the shadows of the hallway anxiously, gripping tight to his shirt.

"Do you know her?" she questioned, shocked.

Eddie blinked slowly, inhaling with slight difficulty. He took Lila's hands in his and held them to his chest. "I don't," he started, "but--I feel like I should…"

---

"Mind if I cut in?"

Gerald opened his eyes to see Sadie Applebee tapping his girlfriend's shoulder. He didn't realize a new song had started; he was completely lost in thought as he held Phoebe in his arms. Reluctantly, Phoebe pulled away from Gerald and wiggled her fingers at him.

"I'll go sit with Sheena and Nadine," she told him, and disappeared, leaving Gerald with the blonde.

"Come here, Gerald," she said sweetly, alluring him with her stare. He had to oblige.

Slowly, he snaked his arms about her waist, pulling her close. She looked up at him, satisfied for the time being. She played with his collar as they circled on the spot.

"You're really cute, Gerald," she told him. He gulped, unknowing of what to say.

"Normally I'd feel guilty," she started, whispering, "but I could stand being a home wrecker for you…"

She was much too close. Gerald could smell the wild berry chapstick on her lips; could have counted every eyelash. He never noticed the small freckles on her nose until now. She started to close her eyes slowly, but Gerald pulled himself away.

"I'm sorry, Sadie," he said, his voice nearly cracking. "I--I just can't do this, okay?"

Sadie looked terribly confused. "But, Gerald--"

"I'm sorry. I'm…really not that kind of guy," he said, more to himself than to her, and turned to join his girlfriend at their table.

---

She was alone. She sat across the gym on a set of bleachers, watching the crowd move with empty eyes. It was hard to believe that she'd been dancing happily with several different guys only fifteen minutes before with how miserable she looked now. Arnold sighed, his heart heavy with the knowledge that he must have been the reason. He didn't know how, but he mustered up the courage to walk over to her. Isabella had been right; he owed her big time.

"Hey, Helga," he said softly, standing in front of her. Slowly, she looked up and scowled.

"Oh, it's _you_," she grunted.

"Not too happy to see me?" he asked, sitting next to her.

"No, Football Head, I can't say that I am," she said plainly, looking anywhere but at him. He couldn't blame her.

"Will uh--asking you to dance fix that?" he asked nervously, fearing her answer.

With a huff and a roll of the eyes, she obliged, however grudgingly. Smirking, she allowed him to take her hand and guide her to a relatively empty spot on the floor.

As he gripped her hips, he asked her, "Having a good time so far?"

"If you call random guys grabbing you and swinging you around under disco lights a good time, then yeah, I guess I am," she answered smartly.

"You call Eddie Gordo a random guy?" he asked curiously, not meaning to pry, but she didn't take it the wrong way.

"Lila had to pee, so she ran off with a bunch of girls and left him alone, so I danced with him," she explained. "What about _you_, how's your pity date going with Winters?"

Arnold sighed heavily and smiled. "She kinda ditched me, actually."

Helga raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "Ditched you? What the hell for?"

"She didn't think I should be here with her, so, she ran off somewhere," he told her.

"Well, that's balls," Helga said dejectedly, and Arnold shrugged.

"It's okay by me."

She snorted.

"Red really does look great on you," he said, trying to lighten her mood. Though it was dark, he could've sworn he saw her cheeks flush.

"I guess I should start taking Rhonda's fashion tips to heart."

Arnold chuckled and looked out into the crowd, watching their friends embrace each other. Rhonda with Sid, Nadine with Peapod Kid, Stinky with Gloria, and Gerald with Phoebe. Each couple looked so content and so happy; so at peace with themselves and each other. Arnold looked back at Helga somberly, thinking that they could have been in this position hours ago if he hadn't been so stupid.

"You know, Helga," he began bravely. She met his eyes expectantly.

"I was actually going to ask _you_ to the dance."

As if she'd been slapped across the mouth, Helga stared incredulously at him; her eyes open in shock.

"No you weren't," she said quietly, tapping her fingers on his shoulders.

"Yes I was," he assured her, smirking. It really wasn't that hard to believe.

"You _wanted_ to come with _me_?" she asked, almost squeaking.

"I did, yeah," he wanted to explain. He stared out into the crowd in front of them, eyeing his date somberly. She was dancing with some guys he didn't know. "But Isabella..."

Helga chewed at her bottom lip.

"She said she really wanted to go," he continued. "She didn't know of any guys who would take her except me, so she asked if I would, and…I thought I'd be a good friend and do it."

Helga stared over his shoulder, zoned out. She allowed a few moments of silence to pass, then said, "You--you wanted to, the whole time?"

"Yeah, Helga. I did," he said calmly, waiting for the outburst.

He certainly got it.

"Then--_shit_, Football Head, why didn't you ask me when they first announced that there was gonna be dance?!" she burst, shoving him and nearly knocking him over. He didn't mind. He guessed that he deserved it.

"I didn't think you were gonna say yes," he admitted, feeling stupider than before.

"Well--maybe I _would_ have, if you had the balls to ask me ahead of time--and you wouldn't be set up on a pity date!" she spat, absolutely livid.

Arnold faced her with a light smile. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he told her calmly, "Helga, it's really no big deal. Yeah, okay, so it's a pity date--but Isabella really didn't have anybody, and everyone deserves a good time, right?"

She made a noise like an angry cat.

"I'm sorry," he said sweetly. "I should have asked you before, but I really didn't know whether or not you'd like the idea, so I held back a while."

"Why were you gonna ask _me_, of all people?" she wondered aloud, furrowing her brow.

He let his hands fall off her shoulders and watched her body quiver slightly. He could see the hope in her blue eyes; it was something she couldn't hide. There was a _lot_ she couldn't hide, but if she wasn't going to come clean, he wasn't either. She was always very vague with him, so he deserved to have that same privilege.

"Because…"

A push came from behind him; it was Isabella. Helga groaned and folded her arms, but Arnold whirled around to meet her. The girl's eyes were wide in fear.

"Arnold, I _really_ hate to butt into this, but I need your help," she begged.

"What happened?" he asked, concerned.

"I think Robbie might have done something, I'm not sure," she started hurriedly, pulling him across the floor. Helga was following close behind, shouting demands to know what was going on.

"What? What could he--" Arnold started, but Isabella cut him off.

"There was a girl--blonde girl, kinda tiny--she said some boy came in the hall and forced himself on her."

"And you think it was Robbie?" Arnold asked.

"Wouldn't put it past him," Helga said when they reached the empty hallway. Isabella looked questioningly at her.

"You know my brother?"

"That _freak_ is related to you?" Helga asked, disturbed.

"Unfortunately," she grunted.

"No wonder people steer clear of you," Helga stated, but Isabella just rolled her eyes.

"She was just here, the girl--"

"Do you know who she was?" Arnold asked.

Isabella shrugged. "I dunno, I just know she was very blonde and very little. Probably our age."

"Check the bathrooms," Arnold said to Helga, who took off immediately. "Izzy, go find your brother, now. I'm gonna talk to Gerald and see if he's seen Sadie."

"Who's Sadie?"

"The only other girl I can think of besides Helga that's really blonde and really skinny," he told her.

---

**A/N: **Cliffhangers--I hate/love to do them, but this chapter is already pretty long, and the last part of the dance is gonna lead to other stuff, so I'm gonna have to split it up. The eighth chapter is coming shortly. Thanks for sticking with me, guys. Much love.


	8. Homecoming, Part Two

**Beforehand**--As promised, quicker updates--not _too_ quick, but hopefully quick enough.

As always, thank you for reading, and thank you even more for reviewing. I'm hoping that reading this fic is time well spent for all of you who check it out.

Get cozy--this chapter's a big one…Enjoy, loves.

**Dis-claym-urr**: What's mine is mine and what's Craig's is Craig's.

---

**Chapter 8**: Homecoming, Part Two

Arnold couldn't feel his legs. Maybe because he was running so fast. He couldn't remember the last time he ran; it might have been in gym class last year. It had been a while since someone gave him a reason to run, and the well-being of this girl, whether it was Sadie or not, was enough to send him sprinting through the deserted hallways back into the glimmering gymnasium. The space was still flooded with dancing teenagers, laughing and singing along to whatever the DJ sent blaring over the speakers, completely unaware of the horror that was possibly lurking in the shadows. If one girl was in danger, there was a chance that others were, too, and Arnold couldn't sit back and let someone else get hurt. Even just one was too much for tonight.

He pushed through the crowd, his ears ringing from the ridiculous bass line. He could barely hear himself as he repeatedly shouted his best friend's name.

"Gerald! _Gerald_!…Gerald!"

"Hey, Arnold!" Gerald finally called back after Arnold screamed his name a dozen times. He said something in Phoebe's ear and shoved his way over to him. "What's going on?"

Rather than answer, Arnold pulled his friend by the arm and dragged him out to the hallway where it was significantly quieter.

"I need to know where Sadie is," Arnold heaved, running his hands anxiously through his hair.

Gerald scratched at the back of his neck. "Sadie Applebee?"

"What other Sadie do we know?" Arnold asked impatiently. "Listen, I think she might be hurt, have you seen her?"

"I saw her like, a half hour ago, I danced with her, but I didn't finish the song--" Gerald explained, but cut himself off. He held his breath and said, "Wait, she's hurt? How do you--"

"Isabella left me for a while, but I was dancing with Helga and then she interrupted and--" Arnold shook his head, still breathing heavily from running. "She said a girl got attacked--it might be Sadie, the way she described her--Isabella thinks her brother Robbie did something!"

Gerald's eyes flashed. "Robbie _Fin_ is that girl's _brother_?"

"Twin, actually," Arnold said.

"_What_?" Gerald said, totally incredulous. "You gotta be kidding me!"

"I'm not, it's true," Arnold confirmed dejectedly. "He separated himself from her after their mom died and got adopted and--well, that's not important right now, what _is_ important is--we find Sadie, and see if she's all right, okay?"

Gerald bit his lip and nodded, then told Arnold, "I haven't seen her in there, I think she left the gym after I stopped dancing with her…"

"I told Helga to look in the bathroom, so maybe--maybe we should go see if she's outside," Arnold suggested.

Gerald nodded and darted out the first door they spotted down the hallway.

---

"Hello--? _Hello_--Hey! Anybody in here? Sadie! You in here?"

The stalls all appeared to be empty in the B Hallway bathroom. Helga looked under the doors; no pair of heels was spotted. She looked into the mirror; nothing behind her. No purse left at the sinks; no jacket hung on the wall. No sign of anyone being in there at all--except short, gasping breaths coming from the last stall on the right.

"Sadie? Sadie, you in here?" Helga repeated, softer this time. "Sadie, it's me, Helga…"

"H-Helga…?"

"Sadie?" Helga asked, leaning up against the stall. "Sadie--can I come in there?"

"_No_!" the girl behind the door screeched. "No, Helga, please--"

"Sadie, what's wrong? What--"

"Helga, please, I don't w-wanna open this door…"

"Okay, that's fine," Helga told her, frustrated. "But--Sadie, what happened?"

"Th-that boy attacked me!"

"What boy?"

Whimpers came from inside the stall. The girl's breaths grew more and more staggered.

"What _boy_, Sadie? Tell me his name!"

"I don't _know_ his fucking name, Helga!" she screeched, scared to death. "He didn't tell me!"

"Well--what did he look like?"

"I don't _know_!" Sadie squealed, freaking out. "I didn't see his face!"

"What, how--"

"It was dark, in the h-hall," she told Helga. "I was going by myself to the b-bathroom…And he came up behind me and h-he tore my dress and he--he put his hands…"

She couldn't finish; she wailed uncontrollably, choking on her own tears. Helga closed her eyes and sank against the door, allowing her imagination to finish the sentence. She could only suppose where he put them.

"Sadie…what happened after that?"

A few more gasps, and she managed to answer, "H-he--there were f-footsteps, they sounded like h-heels--they were coming towards us, and I screamed, and I heard a girl yell for him to get off me, and h-he ran off somewhere, I d-dunno where…"

"Do you know the girl that came to you?" Helga asked patiently, her mind racing.

"I'm not sure--I c-couldn't really see her, b-but--she had brown hair, and a y-yellow dress," Sadie answered. "She--she told me she was gonna go get h-help, and I--I ran in here to h-hide…"

"Sadie," Helga started, "Isabella--she was the one who found you, okay? Isabella Winters, in our seventh period. She went to find Arnold and Gerald, and they're gonna come back and we're gonna get you a doctor, okay?"

"_NO_!" she shrieked, kicking the door. Helga jumped back, even though it was locked. "No, please, no, don't bring a doctor or the cops in here, _please_!"

"But Sadie--Sadie, this guy…" she stopped, feeling the words get stuck in her throat. It wasn't difficult to process in her mind; it was easy to guess what happened, but saying it made it real, and the real thing was…terrifying.

"Sadie," she breathed. "If he touched you--_there_, with _anything_--"

The girl sobbed harder than ever. The clash of her heels knocking against the wall beat hard on her eardrums.

"Sadie, he--he raped you," Helga finally got out, accepting it herself. Sadie, on the contrary, threw a fit of denial.

"_NO_! No, he didn't! He didn't rape me!" she argued fiercely, banging on the door. Helga saw her feet hit the floor; she began stomping like a toddler throwing a tantrum. "Girls like me don't get _raped_, Helga! It just doesn't happen!"

"Sadie," Helga started, rising up to stand, "I hate to break it to you, but anyone can get raped, it can happen to--"

The door swung open, nearly hitting Helga, but missed slightly. Feeling all of the color draining from her face, she saw now why Sadie didn't want anyone to see her. Her blonde hair had been yanked from its beehive style, falling around her face in drooping strands; her makeup streaming down her face in two rivers of black mascara and eyeliner. A few bruises were already forming around her wrists, and the bottom of her pink cocktail dress had been torn. Even her panties had been disgruntled; blood was running slowly from between her thighs all down her legs. Helga tried strenuously not to stare, but it was hard to focus even on her face. She'd never seen a person look like that.

"You don't understand, Helga," she heaved, gripping the sides of the stall. "I am _not _the kind of girl this happens to."

Helga swallowed slowly, feeling as if she had a severe brain freeze. Chills were running all throughout her body; her stomach felt like someone was squeezing it hard.

"No one of _authority_ is gonna know about this, okay?" Sadie said, now sounding more worried than angry. "This never happened."

Helga agreed, although she felt vocally inapt. Her eyes watering. She hadn't blinked for several minutes.

"I need you to get Diana," she began, in a small voice. "I need my things--to call my parents and tell them I'm staying at her house. Please, Helga--go…go get her for me."

"Yeah, yeah, I will," Helga told her slowly.

"Don't talk to anyone on your way there and back--I don't want anyone else coming in here except Diana."

"Okay," Helga said, nodding vigorously.

"Say whatever you have to say to keep from anyone knowing, okay? Please?" the girl begged. "No teachers, no chaperones, no calling the police--please, just don't let anyone know, _please_, Helga…"

"Okay, okay, yeah, I won't," Helga promised, her adrenaline pumping. "I'll have Diana here in a few minutes."

Sadie smiled very, very weakly, and muttered a word of thanks.

"Try to--" Helga started, breathing shortly. "Try to clean up a little--wash yourself off a little in the sink and--just--the _blood_, Sadie, the blood, try to…"

"Yeah," Sadie said, scampering over to the sink. "Yeah, I'll--I'll w-wash myself off a bit--just--please, go Helga, _now_, please, I--I need Diana…"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm--I'm going," Helga told her, backing up, and then finally dashing out the door. Huffing and puffing as she ran down the hall, she fished her phone out of the front of her dress and called Phoebe.

"Pheebs?" she said hurriedly after a few rings. "Pheebs, I need Diana Trumble's number, _pronto_…it doesn't matter _why_, just give me the _damn_ number!…okay…four-three-one, oh-five, oh-six…okay, thanks Pheebs…yes, I'm fine, Phoebe--no, no, I'm sorry, it's just--listen, I'll see you in a little bit, okay?…I love you too, bye."

Helga pressed the red button on her phone, ending the call, and then repeated Diana's number over and over as she exited the building and ran across the courtyard.

"Four-three-one, oh-five, oh-six…four-three-one, oh-five, oh-six…"

Around one corner, Helga found a door that read _Emergency Exit Only_. She twisted the doorknob. Locked. Cursing under her breath, she reached into the front of her dress again and whipped out her school ID card. Sliding it in the crack of the door, she switched it open.

Darkness came over her again as she entered into the back of the gym, the area near the bleachers. Everyone was dancing on the opposite end, where the DJ was set up.

"Four-three-one, oh-five, oh-six," she said again, and dialed the number.

After three rings, Diana answered.

"Diana? It's Helga, listen--Sadie needs your help, okay? Get her shit from off your table and bring it to her--she's in the bathroom in the B Hallway…I don't _know_, okay, she just told me she needed you, now do it! Now!"

Grunting, she hung up, still breathing heavily. Putting a hand to her forehead, she felt a compression in her chest. It had been so difficult for her to breath in that bathroom. She looked ahead of herself and tried to spot her friends in the crowd. She saw Rhonda and waved weakly. As she headed towards her, she lost herself in her thoughts. What was she going to tell Arnold?

---

"Eddie…We have to go."

Eddie averted his gaze from his phone to his girlfriend's ghostly white face. Troubled by her tone of voice, he immediately stood up from the table and walked to her. He grasped her by the shoulders.

"Lila--what's wrong?" he asked uncertainly.

She met his eyes, feeling tears brimming in her own.

"Eddie, we have to get out of here," she whimpered.

Chuckling hollowly, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Lila, sweetie--what happened? Did you see something?"

Lila clutched the front of his shirt, her eyes saying more than she needed to. "Please, Eddie, let's leave--I can't be here right now."

Confused, Eddie took her hand. "Lila…what happened?"

Shaking her head, she sputtered, "I can't--I just--I--"

"Lila," he started calmly, "you can tell me. Did someone do something to you?"

Biting at her lip, Lila shook her head. "Isabella told me--someone got attacked in the hallway, and--please, Eddie, I'm ever so certain I don't want to be here…"

Concerned, he held his girlfriend close and kissed the top of her head repeatedly. "Shh, Lila--it's okay, it's okay, I'm gonna get you out of here, okay? We're gonna go home…"

She couldn't speak. She choked on tears, whimpering helplessly against his chest. She dug her nails into his back, holding onto him like her life depended on it.

"It's okay, Lila," he assured her, shielding her with his arms. "No one is gonna hurt you…not while I'm around…"

---

Arnold jogged over to the fountain, where he told Gerald to meet him. Gerald was making his way over at the same time, huffing and puffing.

"You see her anywhere back there?" Arnold asked, hands on his knees.

Gerald shook his head and ran a hand through his fro. "Nowhere, man…not a soul out here…"

Closing his eyes, Arnold sank down onto the terrace, feeling his back being sprayed with fountain water.

"I guess--she's still inside, maybe in the gym?" Gerald said hopefully.

Arnold breathed hard, wondering if that could be true, but then looked at Gerald stupidly.

"Call her!" he burst, holding his head with his hands.

Gerald fumbled feverishly in his pockets in search of his cell phone, cursing at himself for not thinking of it before. He went through his list of contacts and found her number, then pressed a green button and waited to hear a ring.

"Any answer?" Arnold asked stressfully. Gerald pressed another button and put it on speaker phone. He didn't blink for several seconds. The ringing stopped, but it wasn't Sadie's voice that came in.

"_Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice-messaging system. After the tone, please record your message_."

"Dammit," Gerald cursed, almost tossing his phone on the concrete.

"Maybe--maybe she _is_ inside, in the gym, and she can't hear her phone ringing," Arnold suggested hopefully.

"Yeah, yeah, that could be," Gerald agreed, getting on his feet. Arnold followed and the two boys scampered back inside, making their way to the gym as fast as they could. Before they reached the entrance, though, they bumped into Helga.

"Arnold!" she squealed, shocked.

"Helga," he said, a warm spot spreading in his chest. "Did you find her?"

Wide-eyed, Helga stared back at him for a moment, as if stunned. Shaking her head, she stammered out, "No, I--she was in the bathroom, she didn't wanna come out--she told me to get Diana and I found her and--I told her to go get Sadie and--that was it."

"That's it?" Arnold said, disbelieving. "She--what did she say? Was she okay?"

"Is she hurt? Was she the one who got attacked?" Gerald asked.

Seemingly overwhelmed, Helga shook her head and pushed between the two of them, towards one of the hallways. "I can't--I can't…"

Gerald looked fretfully at Arnold, who wanted to chase after her, but Isabella grabbed him by the shoulders.

"My brother's at home," she said, agitated. "I ran around the school looking for him and I couldn't find him--so I called his phone, and it was turned off. So I called the house, and nobody answered, so I looked more, then I called again, and _then_ he answered. Said he was home, he was just in the shower."

Arnold groaned. "What do we do?"

"Well, if it's not my brother, I really don't know who it _could_ be," Isabella said in defeat. "Plus, I heard Sadie went home a little while ago, so it might not have been her."

"You're _sure_ it couldn't be her?" Gerald asked, distrusting.

"All I saw was blonde hair and a pink dress, Gerald," Isabella told him.

"_Sadie_ was wearing a pink dress!" Gerald burst, distraught.

"Look _around_, Gerald!" Isabella shot back. "There's about twenty tiny blonde girls in pink dresses around here! How do you know it was Sadie?"

Gerald tossed his hands up and yelled, "I just got a feeling!"

"Why do you even care?" Isabella yelled back. "You're freaking out like she's your girlfriend or something!"

Frustrated, Gerald ran his hands over his head and down his face. "Whatever, I'm done. We lose. I'm out--I'll be at the table, Arnold."

Gerald pushed past Isabella, who rolled her eyes and dropped her arms at her sides.

"You didn't have to yell at him like that," Arnold told her quietly, slightly irked.

"He deserved it!" she snapped, putting a hand to her forehead. She then sighed sadly and said, "I didn't mean to, really, I'm just…look, Arnold--we're obviously not gonna find out anything right now, so…maybe we should just forget about it."

Still unnerved, Arnold shook his head. "Izzy…I'm gonna go find Helga, go--go enjoy the rest of the dance, okay?"

Isabella nodded understandingly and gave him a small hug, then darted off back into the gym.

---

"Hey, Harold."

Harold turned to face the black-haired boy that had taken a seat next to him. Sid was sweating slightly and breathing hard, obviously worn out from all the dancing.

"Hey, Sid," Harold returned somberly.

"Where's Patty at?"

"Bathroom," he answered plainly. "Where's Rhonda?"

"Dancing with Sheena's date," Sid replied with a sneer. "Or boyfriend, or thing, or whatever. That guy."

Sid pointed to a spot in the crowd and Harold followed his finger. He saw the raven-haired girl in blue, looking happy as a clam as Leo spun her around and laughed with her. Despite all the running around she'd done, her hair and makeup remained perfect.

"Oh," was all Harold could think to say.

"It's getting so weird," Sid began.

"What's weird?" Harold inquired.

"Rhonda," he told his friend. "She's fun, she's cool, she's a good girlfriend…"

"But?" Harold filled in.

Sid sighed. "But I feel like I'm just her arm candy, ya know?"

"Arm candy?" Harold asked, confused.

"Like I'm some…I dunno, like I'm just there," Sid said, obviously unknowing of how to describe it. "Like I don't mean anything more to her."

"Did she tell you that?"

"Nah," Sid began, "I just…know. She's bored. She shouldn't be with someone like me--we're too much alike."

"You don't…wanna be with her anymore?" Harold asked, slightly confused.

Sid shook his head and widened his eyes. "No, no, I do--I really do. I really like Rhonda. But…I'm just not sure she really likes _me_ anymore…"

"That's crazy, Sid!" Harold declared. "You're one of the coolest guys in our grade! Everyone wants to be friends with you! You're popular and fun and Rhonda likes your clothes and--"

"Yeah, that's just it!" Sid butt in, frustrated. "That's _why_, Harold…"

"Why what?" Harold questioned, completely lost. He had no idea what Sid had to complain about at all. "You're confusing me!"

Sid buried his face in his hands and groaned dramatically. "All that stuff, Harold, about being popular and cool and stuff…I think that's _all_ she likes about me…"

Harold shifted uneasily in his seat. Sid looked considerably miserable, but he didn't know how to console him. At first, he didn't know why he should. Honestly, up until that moment, he would have given everything to have been Sid; that night and every other night he spent calling Rhonda Lloyd his girlfriend. But now, he wasn't so sure. If popularity and nice clothes and a cool attitude wasn't what she wanted, Harold didn't want to be it.

He sighed. He couldn't think of what to say, so he just looked sympathetically at his friend. "I'm sorry, man…"

Sid shrugged and got up to go get a drink. "It's okay…I'll…figure it out."

"Yeah," Harold agreed, staring back out onto the dance floor. He gazed longingly at Rhonda, who was now dancing with another boy, one that looked similar to himself. She was giggling and jumping around him gracefully as he watched and laughed in admiration. Harold sighed, feeling a softening spot in his chest.

---

She was crouched against the wall, right under the window. If he hadn't followed her down the hall, he wouldn't have been able to tell it was her. What little moonlight that poured in only revealed the blonde hair. Arnold apprehensively approached her, hoping that she'd talk.

"Helga…"

She snapped her head up. She hadn't been crying, but terror was still tracing her features.

He sat down on the floor right next to her.

"Helga…I know you talked to her…"

Shaking her head slowly, Helga told him quietly, "I can't…"

"Helga, please," Arnold begged. "We have to help her, even if she doesn't want it…you have to tell me what you know."

She closed her eyes tightly and drew her knees up to her chest. "I _can't_, Arnold…I promised her I wouldn't tell…"

Balked, Arnold took a deep breath. "Helga. If--if what I think happened really _did_ happen, then…"

"What?" she quipped, finally looking him in the face. "What do you think _happened_, Arnold?"

Slowly, he calmly answered, "If Robbie Fin was the one who did it, there's a big, big chance that he…" his voice trailed off. He couldn't bring himself to say it.

"He raped her," Helga finished for him, sounding far away. He looked suspiciously at her, waiting for her to say more. She didn't for a while. Instead, she stared ahead into the darkness emptily. Hours seemed to have passed before she finally spoke.

"I don't know if it was Robbie or not," she began. "She said she didn't see him. It was dark. It happened in the hallway--and Isabella stepped in. She couldn't tell who it was either…he took off. She hid in the bathroom. She made me get Diana so she could get cleaned up and hide it from her parents…she really doesn't want anyone to know…"

Arnold looked softly at her, and she met his eyes. They were glossy and bright with fear and anxiety, something he didn't see in them often.

"I've never seen anyone look so…" she started, but seemed to have lost her words. Either that, or she just didn't know how to describe it. There wasn't a clear way to do so; not for her or anyone else he knew. How often was it that they met a victim of rape?

He waited patiently for her to continue. She lowered her gaze, but then looked back into his eyes. "I dunno. I just know I've never seen anyone look like that, ever. And--I guess it really--bothers me…"

He didn't know what to say, and even if he did, he wouldn't know how to say it. He couldn't possibly fathom the pain that Sadie was going through, and to feel the need to hide it from everyone must have only made it worse.

"I just--it's probably selfish or whatever, but--I keep thinking, what if it were--_me_?" Helga said almost inaudibly.

Arnold grabbed her hand and gripped it tightly. Boring into her eyes with his own, he said fiercely, "Helga--it wouldn't ever be you."

"How do you figure that?" she whispered, trembling in his grasp.

"Because, I wouldn't let do that," he said impetuously. "No one's gonna hurt you--not while I'm around."

A small but genuine smile crept upon her lips as she whimpered, "You're a bold kid, Arnoldo."

"Don't steal Gerald's line," Arnold joked. He pushed her hair out of her face and pulled her up to stand. "Come on…we still have a half hour til the dance is over."

"What's your point?" she sniffled between laughs.

"Well--don't I owe you a dance?" he asked, starting down the hall. She followed him with a smile.

"You owe me _big time, Football Head."_

_---_

A/N: Maybe it's just that I wrote most of this at one in the morning, but I brought myself to tears writing that Arnold/Helga moment at the end. Actually, maybe it's just that I'm so not used to Helga being that vulnerable, and writing about her like that just gets at me. I dunno. I'm too attached to these characters.


	9. Nine

**Beforehand**--Update already? I love winter break. Enjoy, loves.

**Dis-claym-urr**: What's mine is mine; what's not is Craig's.

---

**Chapter 9**: The Courtyard at Two-Thirty

Helga didn't expect to see Sadie Applebee chatting animatedly with her classmates that Monday morning; not after what had happened at the dance. The girl looked completely opposite from the way she had those two nights previous with her wide smile and clean hair and clothes. If it had been herself that was attacked, Helga was sure she wouldn't return to school until someone had her rapist locked up, but in Sadie's mind, the incident never occurred, so she had to behave in accordance. As she walked briskly to her seat, she noticed Diana Trumble looking worriedly in her direction. She sat down, and saw Arnold rushing into the classroom, the bell ringing as soon as he reached his desk. He smiled down at Helga, who averted her gaze back to Diana. He followed it and noticed her expression. Frowning, he sat in his seat and wrung his hands together, waiting for Helga to speak.

"I don't know what to do," she told him uneasily.

"We wait," Arnold said quietly, "until she lets us help."

---

Eddie was dreaming. He knew that he was when he noticed the white walls around himself and Lila. He didn't stop kissing her, though just like he had at the dance. He held her tightly, kissing every inch of her face softly, until that horrified screech caused them to jump apart. Everything went black, and unlike what happened at the dance, Lila disappeared. He reached out for her in the darkness, but all he could see was the girl who screamed. She stood in front of him, smiling, instead of running away like she had in the hallway. Instead of that yellow dress, she was wearing white, and her hair was straight and flowing behind her. There was a glow surrounding her body, like she was some sort of angel, and Eddie watched himself gazing curiously at her. The longer he looked at her, the more she looked like that painting.

"I've been missing you," she kept saying over and over. Eddie saw himself smiling back at her, reaching out his hand to grab hers.

"I've missed you too," he said back. He repeated it again and again until everything disappeared completely. He felt himself sitting upright, looking about and noticing that he was no longer floating in darkness, but safe in his own bedroom.

Shaking his head, he peered at his alarm clock, which read 8:56 am. He grabbed his cell phone from the night table and called John. It would be best if he just didn't go to school that day.

---

Diana Trumble was a quiet girl. Helga supposed being friends with Sadie meant that you hardly ever got a word into anything, since the blonde was always running at the mouth. So when Diana came up to Helga's locker after their lunch period that day to talk, she was surprised.

"Helga, I need to talk to you."

Helga let her arms drop out of her locker and faced the brunette, worried. Wrinkling her forehead, she crossed her arms.

"Shoot, Trumble."

"It's about Sadie," Diana said lowly, inching closer to Helga. She felt her stomach clench. "I _know_ you know what happened, Helga."

Helga swallowed. Licking her lips, she thought of some excuse not to elaborate. She didn't want to spill her guts if Diana was clueless.

"Something's not right with her," Diana continued. "She tried to tell me she just tripped over something and tore her dress, but there's _no_ way I can believe that."

"I guess she blamed the blood on tripping, too," Helga muttered without thinking.

"She said her cycle started early, which is ridiculous because she's on birth control," Diana explained. "Helga...please tell me, so I can help her."

"Does she _want_ help?" Helga asked her, slamming her locker shut.

"She's too stubborn, she'll never admit anything's wrong," Diana whined. "Please, Helga, we've got to do something!"

"Sorry, Trumble, but it's not my place to tell you," Helga said defiantly, picking up her backpack. "You can't help someone who doesn't want it."

Helga looked at the girl sympathetically and turned on her heel. She marched down the hall to her next class, not feeling the slightest bit guilty. A secret was a secret, after all, and this one wasn't hers to reveal. If Sadie wanted to wallow in misery by herself, she wasn't going to make any effort to stop her.

---

_Meet me in the courtyard at 2:30_.

Gerald paced around the fountain, reading his girlfriend's text message over and over. It was 2:42, and she was nowhere around. He ran a hand over his face and finally sat on the terrace, unbothered by the water spraying on his back. He stuffed his phone in his pocket and sighed, looking about himself.

Phoebe came into sight as soon as he settled. Clutching her books to her chest, she strode over to him; her skirt whipping about her legs as she walked. The redness in her eyes couldn't be shielded by her glasses. Gerald furrowed his brow and stood up as she neared him.

"Pheebs--what's wrong?" he asked nervously, worriedly. He reached out to put his hands on her shoulders, but she flinched.

"Why did you do that, Gerald?" she asked him immediately, tears spilling onto her cheeks.

"Do--do what?" he asked, his heart racing. His face felt hot. She knew.

"_Sadie_!" Phoebe squeaked, slamming her books down on the terrace. "Diana told me everything!"

Gerald closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Phoebe…"

"What do you have to say, Gerald?" she questioned, raising her voice. "You couldn't help yourself? You haven't perfected the practice of self-control? She was just too pretty? Is that it? Is that what it is, Gerald?"

"No, Phoebe, I--" he tried to say something, anything to calm her down, but she kept going.

"Is she prettier than me, Gerald? Is that it? Am I not enough for you, anymore?"

Gerald's eyes widened as he shook his head, reaching out to touch her face. "No, no baby, I--"

"Then what is it?!" she demanded, grabbing his hand and shaking it. She was squeezing it so hard he felt his pulse in his fingers. "Tell me why you did it, Gerald!"

He felt his throat tighten as he stared at her face, her pretty, pale, delicate face. He couldn't figure out why he ever looked at other girls when Phoebe looked like this. Even with red, tearful eyes, she was the prettiest person he knew.

"I had a moment of weakness, Phoebe," he told her quietly, his hand trembling in hers. "I'm so sorry…"

"I can't tolerate weakness in a relationship, Gerald," she said slowly, taking his other hand. "You need to be stronger than that."

"I will be," he said confidently, blinking back tears. He couldn't remember the last time he shed any, and he certainly didn't want to now, not with this talk about weakness. "I wanna be better for you…"

"Then tell me when you are," she squeaked, sniffling.

"Huh?" Gerald nearly whined, his head dizzying.

"I can't be with you like this, Gerald," Phoebe managed to mutter through the tears.

"I--you--what?" Gerald asked fearfully, his voice cracking. "What're you saying?"

"I need a break, Gerald," Phoebe told him, not meeting his eyes. "I need you to think about this."

"Phoebe, I don't need to think about anything," he told her, trying to smile reassuringly. "I wanna be with you!"

"I can't believe that's true, considering what you did," Phoebe said honestly, a little calmer now. "Please, Gerald…just…"

"We're…we're really breaking up?" Gerald asked, sounding like a little boy.

Phoebe nodded slowly and picked up her books. "When you know for sure that you only want to be with me, we can get back together."

Gerald bit his lip, feeling all of his insides melting into cool puddles.

"Until then, I'm sorry, Gerald, but…I can't…"

She turned and left the courtyard, still in tears, leaving Gerald to collapse on the terrace.

---

Everyone sophomore at Hillwood High School knew that Phoebe Heyerdahl broke up with Gerald Johanssen by homeroom the next day. Phoebe told Helga, who couldn't keep it from Rhonda, who basically told everyone she knew, and then it spread like wildfire. Luckily for Gerald, Phoebe didn't include the significant detail about him cheating on her with the girl that was supposedly raped a week or so afterward, sparing him the label of the bad guy.

When Arnold tried to ask why she did it, he shook it off, telling him he just didn't want to discuss it. Being the perfect friend he was, Arnold didn't pry, but of course, he tried talking to Phoebe, who also kept the details to herself. Even Helga didn't know the whole story, and she was Phoebe's closest friend. She and Rhonda and the other girls made an attempt to discuss it with her at the Wednesday night get-together at the Lloyd residence, but she refused.

"Really, Phoebe, it's _Gerald Johanssen _we're talking about," Rhonda said pointedly, brushing her hair in front of the vanity. "Any other girl in our grade wouldn't _dream_ of breaking up with him."

"Well, I'm certain that I'm not just any other girl, Rhonda," Phoebe reminded her, annoyed.

"So it couldn't have been for some lame reason like just needing a break!" Rhonda argued. "Really, did he get _that _boring _that_ fast?"

"No, it's not that!" Phoebe said defensively. "You don't understand, Rhonda."

"Then help me to!" Rhonda said obviously, finally facing the girls on her bedroom floor.

"Why don't you leave it alone, _Princess_?" Helga suggested, as irritated as Phoebe was. The short-lived relationship was all she'd talked about that day, and they all were equally fed up with it.

"Yeah, just drop it, already," Nadine droned, grabbing a spoonful of ice cream. "It's _Phoebe's_ business, she doesn't have to tell us everything if she doesn't want to."

Helga shoved a mouthful of chocolate-covered pretzels in her mouth and agreed. "The whole thing is whatever, really. They're gonna get back together in two weeks anyway, so no use freaking out about it."

Phoebe cleared her throat and dipped an apple slice in caramel. After biting into it, she said, "Can we please discuss a more cheerful matter?"

"Fine by me," Helga agreed, chewing with her mouth open.

"Oh my gosh," Rhonda started suddenly, sitting down next to Helga. "You know what we all forgot about?"

"What?" Nadine asked blatantly.

"It's almost Arnold's birthday!"

Helga choked on an apple slice and Phoebe patted her back. After she managed to swallow the chunk of fruit, she tearfully croaked, "What _about _Arnoldo's birthday?"

"It's his sweet sixteen, Helga!" Rhonda said brightly. "We have to think of something to do to celebrate!"

"What _for_?" Helga quipped. "We never did anything for _any_ of our birthdays before!"

"None of us have turned sixteen before," Nadine pointed out. "And Arnold will be the first out of all of us."

"Yeah, you only turn sixteen once, Helga," Rhonda said snobbishly.

"You only turn _any_ age once, _genius_," Helga reminded her.

Turning her nose up in the air, Rhonda dipped her finger in the melted caramel and said, "Whatever, sixteen is still a big deal--and since Arnold is--well, _Arnold_, we should do something for him. He's been such a good boy--I think he deserves a big…something."

"How about we just--throw him a huge surprise party or something?" Helga blurted absent-mindedly, not thinking they'd take it seriously.

However, Nadine's eyes lit up. "That's a great idea, actually!"

"I'll say," Rhonda agreed.

"We can throw it right here, at your house!" Nadine exclaimed, elbowing Rhonda.

"But we _always_ have parties at Rhonda's," Helga groaned. "Shouldn't we do it at _his_ place, since ya know, it's _his_ birthday?"

"I agree," Phoebe said, nodding.

Rhonda scratched at her neck and thought for a moment, then said, "Yeah, we should definitely do it at the boarding house--but where? On the roof?"

"Yeah," Nadine said. "We can set up tents and hang up banners and stuff!"

"And I'm sure your _boyfriend_ could set up a wicked sound system up there," Helga added, eyeing Rhonda.

"And since it'll be in his own home, his whole family can join in the festivities as well," Phoebe said brightly, popping a cherry into her mouth.

Rhonda took all of it in and grinned excitedly as she started to fumble around her room for a notebook and pen.

"When should we do it?"

"Next weekend," Helga said. "He'll already be sixteen, but it's too soon to do it tomorrow."

"We need to speak with his grandparents about the idea," Phoebe pointed out.

"Helga can take care of that," Rhonda said, writing a note of it on the paper.

"What?"

"It's your idea, Helga," Nadine told her, smirking.

Groaning, Helga ran a hand over her face.

"Oh come on, Helga," Nadine scoffed. "They're gonna say yes. They're easy to talk to--no big deal."

"Yeah, you know them," Rhonda reminded her. "You spent every other day at the Sunset Arms during the summer."

She couldn't deny that. Truthfully, Arnold's grandparents took kindly to her, and they really were good people. It wasn't _them_ she was afraid of, it was their suspicions of her and their grandson. Surely they were old enough and wise enough to see past her façade, but she hated feeling awkward. This couldn't be avoided, she thought, so she sighed and reluctantly agreed to head over to the Sunset Arms the following day to propose the idea.

---

She couldn't decide if she wanted Arnold to open the door or his grandfather. She stood back on the stoop, her pulse quickening as she waited for either one to answer it. If it was Phil, this would be easy. If it was Arnold, though, she'd have to figure out how to tell him she needed a word with his grandfather without it sounding too weird. She conjured up excuses, but not quickly enough. Arnold had opened the door, standing in front of her in a white muscle tee and blue gym shorts. He looked as if he'd just rolled out of bed.

"Helga, hey," he said drearily, rubbing one of his eyes. "What's uh…what's up?"

Helga shifted her gaze from left to right and rubbed her arm. "Uh--Arnold, I--I wanted to uh--I...need to ask your grandpa something, if--if that's--"

"Grandpa?" Arnold repeated, surprised. Rubbing the other eye, he yawned, and ushered her inside. "Sure, he's…in the kitchen. I'll be upstairs if you need me, okay?"

"Y-yeah, okay," Helga said, and watched him ascend to the second floor. Well, that was easy. The rest of the task was sure to be equally as such, she thought as she entered the kitchen.

Phil was sitting with his legs propped up on the table, reading the newspaper upside-down and sipping from his coffee mug. He didn't notice Helga's presence until she cleared her throat.

"What? What? Oh--hi, there, Olga!"

"It's Helga, Phil," Helga muttered, annoyed.

"Well, of course it is," Phil laughed, folding up the paper and setting it down. "I just wanted to see how mad you'd get if I called you by your sister's name, haha…haha…"

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, and Phil scratched the top of his head while his laughter ceased.

"Oh--uh, ahem, sorry, Helga, uh--why don't you sit down?"

Helga pulled out a chair across from him and exhaled deeply.

"So, what can I do for you, Helga?" he asked jokingly. "Need a room? Roof need fixing? I don't do toilet work, you'll have to ask Ernie for that."

"Uh," Helga started, lifting an eyebrow. "It's not anything like that, actually, it's about Arnold--"

"_Ah_," Phil said, smiling widely. "Well, you're a pretty girl, I'm sure he'll have no trouble saying yes to a date with you--"

"_No_!" Helga butted in, completely embarrassed.

"Then again, I thought you two were _already_ dating, since you were here every other day during the summer--_"_

Slightly red-faced, she explained, "No, no, Phil--listen, it's about his _birthday_--our friends wanted to know if we could throw him a surprise party on the roof of the boarding house, if that's okay with you."

Phil scratched the bottom of his chin and eyed her curiously, unnerving Helga. Somewhere in her mind, she knew he was thinking of why _she_ was the one who came here and proposed this idea; it could have easily been Gerald or one of the guys, but no, she made the effort. He was possibly even more convinced that she had feelings for him. But Helga remained collected, despite these subtle fears, as she waited for him to give an answer.

"_Well_, I dunno, I'll have to see what his grandma thinks about this one," he said slowly, still studying her slyly. "_Pookie_! Get in here, we have something to discuss with you!"

As much to Helga's delight as it was to her surprise, Arnold's grandmother Gertie waltzed in the room in a simple periwinkle dress and apron. Helga inhaled easily; she was honestly expecting her to be sporting a Viking helmet or some sort of country-western apparel. But no, today, Gertie seemed definitely normal, despite the frying pan she clutched in one hand.

"Pookie, I--what are you doing with that frying pan? I thought you were dusting the furniture!"

"Taking care of those flies, slim," Gertie told him, waving the pan over his head. "Now what's going on?"

"Olga here--"

"Helga."

"Oh, yeah, right--Helga here wanted to know if she and the kids could throw Arnold a surprise birthday party on the roof next weekend," Phil said to his wife, grinning sweetly at her.

"Well, what are you asking me for?" Gertie quipped, waving the pan some more. "The answer is always yes with me! I'll go get out the Christmas lights!"

And with that, Gertie practically flew out of the kitchen, making a ruckus in the living room. Helga shook her head, not doubting that she was serious about the lights.

"Well, there you go, sweetie," Phil told her brightly, opening up the newspaper again. "Arnold's in for a big surprise."

"Thanks," Helga said, smiling genuinely. She rose up and escorted herself to the foyer, wishing that Arnold would venture back downstairs before she left, but he didn't. Shrugging, she guessed her love had gone right back to sleep.

_---_

"So then I was thinking Snow White and the prince, but then I decided it would be too cheesy…"

Sid nodded in agreement, stabbing at his Chocolate Brownie Chunk Sundae and half-listening to everything Rhonda had been saying about their Halloween plans. He didn't know why she was worrying about it weeks in advance, but he guessed that since she liked her costumes to be specially made, she had to make decisions more quickly. He waited for lulls in her speech, any sign that she was interested in having his input, but his wishes went unfulfilled.

"I think we should go with being secret agents, even though Peapod Kid and Iggy did it last year," she stated, twirling her straw in her strawberry milkshake. "Or maybe pirates, ooh! Or we can be Batman and Catwoman!"

Sid shrugged and took a rather large bite out of his sundae. Rhonda stared, befuddled.

"Sid--why aren't you saying anything?"

He shrugged again.

Rhonda frowned and rested her elbows on the table. "Sid…why do I feel like you hardly ever say that much to me anymore?"

"Because you never _let_ me, Rhonda!" he burst, letting it out more angrily than he'd intended. He'd just bottled it in so long that it came out so intensely.

Shocked, she simply looked at him, wide-eyed and hurt. Sid was usually screaming about something, but he'd never done it at her.

Surprised by himself, Sid shook his head and reached across the table for her hand. She reluctantly let him take it.

"R, I'm sorry, I just…"

"Do I really do that, Sid?"

He looked farther into her eyes than he usually did. He'd never noticed how dark they really were until then. "Rhonda…I don't know how to say this…"

"You're not breaking up with me," she started, slightly paranoid, "are you?"

"No, no, of course not," Sid assured her, smiling weakly and grasping her hand with both of his. "I was just--I was actually scared _you_ were gonna break up with _me_ for a while…"

"What?" Rhonda blurted with a hollow laugh. "Sid, that's crazy! Why would I break up with you?"

"Well, uh--"

"You're funny, popular, cool, sweet, energetic, and you have killer style," she told him, batting her eyelashes.

"That's just the problem, though," he said with difficulty.

She looked terribly confused. Another hollow laugh came from her as she leaned forward in her seat. "S, I--I don't understand."

"Is that it, Rhonda?" he started. "All that about being cool and popular and stuff--is that all that matters to you?"

"W-what?" she said in a small voice.

"Is that all you like about me?" he furthered, his heart racing. "Am I boring? Do I bore you? Do you just keep me around because we look good together?"

"Whoa, Sid, slow down," Rhonda told him, rubbing her hands over his. "Why would you think that, Sid?"

"Because," he began to elaborate, "you like--you talk to all these other guys, and they aren't--they aren't like me, and they have these weird interests and talents, and--"

"Sid--"

"--you're all impressed with them, and you talk to them about really deep stuff, and then there's me, and we hardly talk about anything important at all and we--"

Rhonda squeezed his hand, wearing the saddest expression he'd ever seen upon her face, ever. He took a deep breath and leaned forward like she had.

"I'm just--scared, I guess," he told her. "I'm afraid you just keep me around because it just...makes _sense_ that we're together, ya know?"

"Sid…" Rhonda looked down at the table, then back at him, staring lovingly into his eyes. "I'm not with you because we make sense or whatever…I really like you. I have since we were thirteen, and it's not because of what you look like or what everyone else thinks about you…"

Sid felt his heart swelling at her words. Despite the taste of ice cream in his mouth, he felt extremely warm.

"You understand me," she said, her voice sounding sweeter and more girlish than he'd ever heard. "You have the patience to put up with me, and you make me laugh…"

Smiling, Sid leaned forward farther and planted a light kiss on her lips.

"I'm really happy with you, Sid," she told him, a single tear rolling down her face. "I'm sorry I'm so bad at showing it--I promise, I'll fix it, okay?"

"Oh, Rhonda…"

"I want to be the best for you," she said quietly, leaning in again to kiss his cheek. "You deserve it."

Sid supposed that if hearts could smile, his would be, right then. He'd never felt more at ease, or more satisfied. He took one last bite of his sundae as Rhonda laid money on the table. She entwined her fingers with his and they walked out of Slawson's Ice Cream Parlor together, their hips swaying in sync.

_---_

**A/N**: I'm gonna get a helmet, because I'm pretty sure you're all ready to throw rocks at me for splitting up Tall Hair Boy and Pheebs, but don't fret, it'll all get better in time.

Plus, you get a sweet Sid/Rhonda moment. Aww.


	10. Ten

**Beforehand**--You probably already know how amazing it feels to wake up at noon with nothing at all planned for your day except writing fic. I've nothing to keep me company except my imagination and my hot chocolate, and I kinda like it this way. Bigger marshmallows would be nice, though.

As always--thanks for keeping up with this story, and thanks even more for reviewing. The readers make it happen.

Enjoy, loves.

**Dis-claym-urr**: What's mine is mine, what's not is Craig's.

_---_

**Chapter 10**: Chocolate Cake and Photo Albums

Boys were difficult to shop for. Miriam would always complain about not having a clue as to what to get her nephews for their birthdays, so Bob would always have to step in and point out something appropriate. Baseball cards and video games were popular choices, but Arnold stopped collecting those cards when he was eleven, and he hardly ever played video games. Actually, Helga didn't recall seeing a game system anywhere in the boarding house, so those ideas were definitely out. So what the hell do you get a sixteen-year-old boy for his birthday?

Rhonda, of course, suggested clothes, but she was the one who'd be getting him a gift card to Abercrombie & Fitch ("But he doesn't even shop there!" Helga had argued, but Rhonda retorted with "Well, now he'll have the money to!"). Phoebe, Nadine, and Sheena all were pitching in with a few of the guys to buy him that expensive Nikon camera he'd wanted, and on top of contributing to that, Sid and Stinky were planning on getting him free passes to the arcade. No one else could think of anything he might want, so the gift ideas stopped there. Helga put in at least fifty dollars towards the camera, but it wasn't enough to her. There had to be_some_thing she could get for him on her own, and she couldn't stop racking her brain for ideas.

Helga spent the entire afternoon that Monday venturing through the mall, peering into every store in search of something that would appeal to Arnold. She looked at everything he might like--certain books, doo-dads for the camera, something for his keyboard--but she found something wrong with almost everything. She collapsed in Barnes & Noble at quarter to five, feeling totally helpless. She was out of options.

_Where's Geraldo when you need him?_

As if a higher power read her thoughts, Gerald walked over to her, into the sitting area of the bookstore. He gave her a weak smile and approached one of the aisles.

"H-hey! Gerald!" she yelped, jumping out of her seat.

"Hey, Helga," he returned. "What're you doing here?"

"Well--I'm--uh--you first," she stammered, getting red in the face.

"Just looking around for that book Arnold wanted," he said, shrugging.

"W-what book?" Helga asked shakily.

"Oh, some weird mystery thriller," Gerald answered, making a weird face. "Deals with some rape case where some guy got framed and stuff--I don't know, it's kinda strange. I can't believe he likes summa the stuff he likes, sometimes…"

"Do you know what it's called?" Helga asked, trying to keep from sounding too curious.

Gerald scratched behind his neck. "Uh…_Salem Falls_, I think. I know it's by some chick named Jodi Picoult. Kinda weird."

"He reads chick novels?" Helga asked skeptically.

"Like I said, summa the stuff he likes…"

"You couldn't think of anything _else_ to get him?"

"It was either this or that songbook," Gerald answered.

Helga felt her eyes light up. "Songbook? What songbook?"

"Some book with all kindsa sheet music in it," he told her. "It's like…150 Beautiful Songs, or something like that. He was looking at it when we came in the other day--said he'd like to have it. I woulda got it, but it's mad expensive."

Helga twisted her mouth in agreement and peered over Gerald's shoulder, eyes dancing about in search of the music section.

"Well, I'm gonna go find that Salem Falls thing," Gerald said.

"W--oh, yeah, right, go find it--see ya tomorrow, Geraldo," Helga told him quickly. She pushed past him and darted behind the shelves.

"Mm, mm, mm," Gerald muttered. He shook his head and continued looking for the book, pretending he wasn't suspicious.

---

"Arnold…_Ar_-nold…"

_What's that…smell?_

"_Ar_-nold, time to wake up…gotta get ready for school!"

…_What on earth _is_ that?_

"Come on, Arnold, I brought you some breakfast…"

Arnold slowly lifted his head off the pillow and squinted, opening his eyes to a fish head poking out of between its bed of bread slices.

"Grandpa…what _is_ that?"

"Your birthday breakfast!" Phil laughed, holding the sandwich to his face. "I made Pookie whip up a delicious _herring_ sandwich for you!"

Sitting up in and rubbing his eyes, Arnold sighed and let out a small laugh. "Thanks, haha…uh, I'm uh…I don't think I should really be eating fish at this hour, though…"

Phil laughed and shook his head. "Good, I didn't expect you to--this is for _me_, I just needed it to wake you up--your real birthday breakfast is downstairs."

Arnold smiled and shook his head, then reached for his phone on the night table as his grandfather exited his room. There were about ten new text messages, all wishing him a happy birthday. Rising up to go to his closet, Arnold thought it was going to be a particularly nice day.

---

It wouldn't be rude to just walk in, would it? The door was wide open, allowing a soft, golden light to seep through the window blinds. A soothing, vanilla aroma crept up her nostrils as she stood in the doorway. Miss Hawkins surely wouldn't make her classroom so inviting just to chase away anyone who wished for entry. Lila approached her desk apprehensively anyway, despite her good feeling.

To her relief, Miss Hawkins looked up to meet her visitor pleasantly. She smiled and removed her glasses and asked, "Good morning, dear…do you need something?"

Lila set the plastic container she'd held behind her back on the desk. Sweetly, she said, "Arnold Shortman is in your first period, I do believe."

"Yes, he is," the teacher confirmed.

"Could you possibly…" Lila started, struggling to meet the woman's eyes. She didn't know why she felt so shy. "It would mean ever so much--"

"I'll see that he gets this," Miss Hawkins told her, pulling the container towards her. She admired the tiny chocolate cake inside. "Who shall I tell him it's from?"

"Lila Sawyer and Eddie Gordo," she told her politely.

Miss Hawkins' smile vanished as she asked quietly, "I'm sorry, love, what--what was that other name?"

"Edward Gordo," Lila repeated, suddenly ill at ease.

The woman lowered her gaze and stared at a framed photograph for a moment, then drew her eyes back up to the girl.

"I see."

"Is there--?"

Miss Hawkins shook her head and smiled again, reassuring Lila, but only slightly.

"I'm sure Arnold will love it."

"Thank you," Lila said slowly.

"Have a good day, Miss Sawyer."

"You too," Lila forced, and she walked more briskly out of the room to her first class.

---

Lunch period was especially loud that day. Funny thing was, Arnold half-expected it. Of course, he didn't predict that his friends would turn class time into party time just for his birthday, but he sort of knew that a ruckus was coming once Sheena and Rhonda met him at the entrance to the cafeteria with a bunch of balloons. Clutching the container he'd received in first period, he graciously accepted the balloons and followed the girls to their lunch table, where Gerald and Sid started whooping and hollering. Even Helga was uncharacteristically cheerful.

"Really guys--you didn't have to," Arnold began, sitting down and eyeing the elongated lunch line.

"Oh, but we wanted to," Phoebe assured him, sliding over a brown paper bag. It was decorated in shiny blue stickers; the words "Arnold's Birthday Lunch" were written across in white marker.

Arnold felt his stomach warming and bubbling as he smiled at the small group and took the food out of the bag.

"Hey, Arnold," Gerald asked lightly, eyeing the plastic container with the small cake. "Who's that from?"

The blonde boy felt his face flush as he answered, "Oh--uh--Lila and her boyfriend had it sent to me."

Helga's quaint smile vanished as she raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "_Li_la sent it?"

Arnold nodded, hoping that this topic wouldn't be dragged out farther, but Rhonda, of course, had to open her mouth.

"Oh _really_?" she began, automatically riveted. "You guys are friends again?"

Shrugging, Arnold opened the container and cut out a bite-sized piece of the little cake. "I guess this is a signal that she wants to be."

Helga grumbled on the other side of the table, obviously extremely annoyed. Arnold gave her a wink as to ease her nerve, but she didn't seem to retain her calm. He frowned. He knew what she thought, but he couldn't help but hope she'd be wrong.

---

"Sid?"

"Check."

"Stinky?"

"Check."

"Harold?"

"Check…"

"And we've got Peapod Kid and Park?"

"Yeah."

"And Eugene and Curly?"

"Yeah, Rhonda."

"And then the five of us."

"Check."

"And of course, Gerald."

"Yep. All our names are there."

"So that's…what, nineteen people?"

"Including us, yeah."

"Let me see that list."

Rhonda stood behind Helga and reviewed the guest list for Arnold's surprise party over her shoulder. Her eyes drew up and down until she stopped and pointed a finger at the end of the list.

"You didn't put Lila on here."

"Was I _supposed_ to?" Helga asked cynically.

"Well, they're cool now, aren't they?" Nadine asked, pulling a box of wrapping paper out of the closet.

"Yeah, you saw that cake she gave him," Rhonda said pointedly.

"It would appear that they're on good terms again, Helga, considering his acceptance of her kind gesture," Phoebe agreed.

"Yeah, they hugged at his locker after sixth period today," Nadine furthered.

Helga snorted at the mental image of that, then droned, "So…we're inviting her."

"Yes!" Rhonda said obviously. "Just put her name there! Eddie's too."

"So he has to look at her _and_ the guy she cheated on him with at his own _party_?"

"What she did wasn't very fair to Eddie, either," Nadine pointed out.

"It doesn't even matter anymore," Rhonda said plainly. "They're all cool now, so why not invite them? The more the merrier!"

Helga scoffed and scribbled Lila's and Eddie's names on the guest list, nearly tearing through the paper as she did so.

"So we e-mail everyone the invites tonight," Rhonda started, pacing around the basement floor. "Wrap the presents…and we're done, right?"

"We haven't come up with a distraction for him on Saturday," Phoebe reminded. "We're going to need a few hours to prepare the boarding house for celebration."

"So we gotta keep him away for the whole afternoon?" Nadine said.

"Everyone is going to be there by six o' clock sharp," Rhonda said.

"Then someone will need to take him out from right after lunch time until then," Phoebe started, eyeing Helga slyly.

"Who, then?" Nadine asked blindly.

"Well, I'd suggest Gerald, but we're gonna need him to help with the big decorations, like the banners," Rhonda started, casting Helga a sly look. She shrunk under her gaze.

"Actually, Rhonda, _all_ of the boys will be needed to set up," Phoebe added.

Helga felt the heat rising in her face drastically as she said, "Well, _I'm_ not spending the whole damn day with him, if _that's_ what you're trying to suggest."

"Okay," Rhonda said simply. "We'll just ask someone else to do it--I'm sure _Lila_ will be willing to occupy a few hours of his time."

"Oh yes," Phoebe played along, smirking. "I'm certain that _Lila_ would be happy to do us that favor."

"Fine, _I'll_ do it!" Helga grunted through gritted teeth. "_I'll_ take the Football Head out somewhere and leave _you guys _to do the party crap, okay? Satisfied?"

Rhonda and Phoebe exchanged knowing glances while Nadine raised an eyebrow.

"What's so--"

"Nothing, Nadine," Rhonda insisted with a smirk. She winked at Helga, who felt her stomach turn over. Lila being friends with Arnold again was already too much--she couldn't risk a possible rekindling of their hopefully long-dead romance.

---

It really wasn't _that_ hard to pick up the phone and call him. She'd done it countless times before; this wouldn't be any different. All she had to do was hold it in her hands, find his name in the address book, and press the green button. This wasn't like middle school, where she'd have to sit there and freeze in the midst of dialing his number. The cell phone promised immediate connection with one button, eliminating the time she had to chicken out. Just one button. One little green button was all she had to press. She'd done this. Why couldn't she now?

"Dammit," Helga muttered, staring at his name on the tiny screen. "Criminey…"

_Whatever, I'm doing it, I'm pressing it_, she thought, finally touching the keypad.

There was a ringing and a click, and Helga felt her heart skip when she heard his voice come in on the other end.

"Hey, Helga," he said happily.

"Hey, Arnold," she said slowly, biting at her lip. "Uh--happy birthday, Football Head."

He chuckled, sounding like he was in a very bright mood. "Thanks, Helga."

"H-how was uh--what'd you _do_ today?" she asked, not wanting to cut to the chase just yet. "You skipped lunch _and_ career development…"

"Oh yeah," he said. She could hear the smile in his voice. "Grandpa took me out early--us and all the boarders went to lunch in this one place across town, and then we hung out at the park. We just came home a little bit ago."

"Oh, that sounds--nice," Helga told him, thankful that he couldn't see her face as she imagined all of the residents of the Sunset Arms on an outing together.

A voice that sounded like Oskar Kokoshka's rang in the background, and Arnold breathed heavily.

"Ah--we're deciding on what pizza to order for dinner, and I think we're having problems, so--"

"Oh, okay, Arnold, I'll uh--let you go," Helga told him hurriedly, her heart sinking in defeat. She could always ask tomorrow, she guessed, but the sooner, the better. Lucky for her, though, he didn't say goodbye.

"Oh, you don't have to," he told her. "Listen--why don't you just come over? There'll be plenty of pizza, I'm sure."

He'd invited her over to his house plenty of times before, but that didn't stop her pulse from throbbing as she stammered, "Oh no--it's fine, Arnoldo, really, I don't wanna intrude--"

"You won't be," he insisted. "Come on! I want you to."

He _wanted_ her to come. Of course he'd _wanted_ to her come all those other times, but he'd never come out and said it. Plus, this was his _birthday_. He wanted her in his _home_ to have dinner with his family on his _birthday_. Helga's heart did a drum roll on her rib cage as she took this in and breathed, "O-okay, _fine_, if you _really _want me to, I'll come. I'll be there soon. Happy now?"

"Yeah," he said. "See you soon!"

_Click_.

---

Elena sighed heavily, looking over the photo albums spread out on her living room floor. It had been so long since she looked at them. Probably since he died. The only pictures of him that she ever glanced at were the few that had herself in them, too. She never thought she'd be digging around the older ones, the ones depicting his family; the family that she always believed should have been hers, too.

The first album was from 1986; the year she graduated university. There were dozens upon dozens of photos of her and Palmer together as they celebrated her acquiring her degree. Sadly, his wife came too, however grudgingly. Elena didn't mind, though--the main reason he brought her anyway was because it was the only way Elena would get to see the baby.

Elena ran a hand over one of the larger photographs in that album; the one with her in her cap and gown, grinning madly with little Edward Gordo in her arms. He was only a few months old at the time. Palmer was at her side, smiling down at his tiny son with his wife fuming in the background. Elena gave a snort. No wonder she loved that picture so much.

She flipped the pages. More of her in her cap and gown. More of her clutching bouquets of flowers and her diploma. Her laughing. Her dancing. It was astonishing, how happy she looked. She couldn't remember many more occasions when she looked as ecstatic as she did that day. Maybe they were after Palmer and Kathy divorced.

Elena picked up a different album. The first page had an elegant stamp on it; _Eddie and Eva_, it read. She turned the page over to see several different faces of the boy as a toddler. Eddie in pajamas, Eddie clutching a teddy bear, Eddie sitting on his father's lap. Eddie chewing on a record, Eddie eating spaghetti, and a slightly older-looking Eddie holding a tiny infant in his arms. Little Eva, Elena thought. She couldn't remember how she'd gotten these pictures when she and Palmer barely talked during that time, but guessed that she acquired them much later, when the kids grew older. After the divorce.

The other pages in the album were more of the brother and sister, holding hands, eating cereal, watching television together. Her favorite was the one taken at Christmas, in 1990, when Eva was just about a year old. It was after his and Kathy's separation, but he'd gone to her home in Washington anyway to see his babies. The photo depicted a young, beautiful, twenty-seven-year-old Palmer, holding his little daughter in one arm and smiling right at the camera. His other arm was wrapped about little Eddie's shoulders; their smiles looked eerily yet adorably identical. Baby Eva's eyes were squinted, due to her laughter. Elena had never wanted so badly to be in a picture until she'd seen that one.

There was another album, one that Palmer had sent to her in the mail a year or so before he died. There weren't many photos of him in it, but he'd given her ones of the kids, copies that Kathy had made for him. Elena flipped through it, glancing past all of the school yearbook photos and professional holiday and birthday photos that Kathy and her rich second husband arranged to make. The money spent on them wasn't wasted at all; Edward and Eva were certainly more than beautiful children.

Elena stopped at the photos of Eddie's freshman year. As she studied the backdrop and the lighting, she wrinkled her nose. Palmer's sister Elizabeth would have done such a better job--but Eddie looked flawless regardless. She frowned, feeling tears forming behind her eyes as she studied the boy. The full, dark hair and the sky-blue eyes were definitely Palmer's.

She snapped the book shut, wiping away the hot tears with a few fingers.

---

**A/N: **So, Arnold and Helga have a whole day to spend together with a surprise party on a roof as a follow-up. A stroke of romantic genius, or a disaster plan?

What the crap is Lila doing back in the picture, anyway, and just how much baggage did she bring with her?

And poor Elena--how much does she really miss her lost lover?

Answers will be given in the next update. Maybe. Til then, sit tight, loves.


	11. Eleven

**Beforehand**--Reading reviews is a gift in itself for me. Thanks to you all for taking the time to write them and for sticking with this story.

A very happy holiday to all of you. Enjoy, loves. Cheers!

**Dis-claym-urr**: What's mine is mine; what's not is Craig's.

---

**Chapter 11**: Delightfully Dense

"Do you really think he'll like it?"

Curly eyed the rectangular package, secured in shiny blue paper with a white envelope sitting on top. It was simple; it didn't appear to have anything spectacular within its casing, but looks could be deceiving. As well as Curly knew Arnold, he knew that it was probably going to be his favorite gift of all.

"I know he will."

Helga gave her friend a gracious smile and hugged him.

"So take that with you when you get there, and set up a table with all his presents."

"Yeah."

"And tell Pheebs to order the food."

"Yeah…"

"And…that's it, I guess."

Curly sighed in agreement, watching as she slipped into her flats and tightened her ponytail.

"Well, I guess I'm off to treat the yutz to the best day of his life," she said with a smirk, "so text me when you get to the boarding house, okay?"

"Yeah, I will," Curly told her warmly. "We shouldn't have too many problems setting up."

"I wouldn't be so optimistic," Helga warned.

Curly laughed. "You got nothing to worry about."

Helga smiled again and zipped her jacket. She grabbed her purse and headed towards Curly's front door. As she turned the knob, she looked back at him over her shoulder and said, "Just make sure no one gets thrown off the roof."

---

"I swear to _God_, Curly, I'm gonna throw you off the roof!"

Rhonda hit him over the head with one of the pillows in Arnold's living room as he continued laughing at her. Harold had tripped coming in there a few minutes earlier, unfortunately with a bowl of punch in his hands, asking where he should put it, and Rhonda caught it as he fell. The bowl didn't hit the floor, but most of the juice splattered all over her white shirt, and she screamed at Harold. Curly, of course, couldn't resist the opportunity to make fun of anyone, so he was the first to laugh maniacally at her.

"Sorry, Rhonda, you just look--"

"I _know_ what I look like, Curly, now shut up and get out of my way!" Rhonda hollered, pushing him aside and marching out of the living room.

Harold was still standing near the entrance, completely crestfallen as he watched her exit the boarding house.

"Is--is she gonna be okay?" he asked in a small voice, going over to pick up the bowl she set on the couch.

"She'll be fine," Sid encouraged, half-smiling. "She'll come back in twenty minutes with a new outfit and a better mood."

"Yeah, all it ever took to make her happy was clothes," Curly said nostalgically, his laughter dying down. He fixated his gaze on the front door.

Sid frowned. "You okay, Curly?"

"What?" Curly switched his focus to his friend, shaking his head. "Oh yeah--I'm good. I'm okay. We--"

Harold looked utterly befuddled and Sid just looked uncomfortable.

"We should go back up and uh…help Pookie with those lights," he finished, heading towards the staircase.

Still frowning, Sid followed, with Harold lagging behind, still clutching the bowl.

---

Lila pressed the iron against the shirt, eliminating every wrinkle she could spot. She shook her head, scolding herself for having rolled it into a ball and shoving it in the corner of her bedroom right after buying it. The store she'd purchased it from didn't offer gift wrapping, so she had to do it herself, and there were only a few hours left until the party. Eddie had gone to the nearest Wal-Mart to pick up a gift bag and a card while Lila smoothed it out and finished getting ready.

She unplugged the iron and picked up the shirt, thinking that green and white was a good choice of color for Arnold. It would bring out his eyes. She smiled and folded it, thinking--hoping that she wasn't doing too much. Whoever got a cake _and_ a gift for an ex? He wasn't ever officially her boyfriend, but it felt as such. Even though she'd just cheated on Eddie with him, it didn't erase the emotional connection they had. Eddie was wonderful, of course. Perfect, even. But he wasn't Arnold.

Arnold was more sensitive, more aware, more concerned, more steady. He was open and forgiving and patient and kind, while Eddie didn't talk much about his feelings. He was good at showing them, but it was nice to hear that she was loved once in a while. Arnold was constantly reminding her of how beautiful she was and how happy she made him. Eddie counted on his kisses and spent money to do the talking for him.

Lila sighed. As she stared at the shirt, she wondered why she _really_ wanted to give it to him. Why she really wanted to even go to his party. She didn't belong there, really--not after how she treated him. Most of the friends she used to have didn't forgive her, but _he_ did, and that was all that really mattered to her. She wanted him back in her life, desperately. She needed him, for what he was.

And he was--to most people--a savior.

---

"And--and then what?"

Arnold wiped his forehead, trying to suppress the laughs as he finished the story, but had to wait a few moments before he could continue speaking. Helga didn't mind the pause; she adored the face he made when he was laughing so hard.

"And then…and then, we got a stoplight, and so Grandma just--jumps out of the Packard and starts dancing on the hood all crazy, and the rest of us were practically dying in the car," Arnold managed to get out, clutching his stomach. Helga laughed incessantly along with him, imagining the eighty-something-year-old woman pulling such a stunt. No one would put it past her to do such a thing, but the hilarity of that mental image couldn't be denied. Helga tried to stop, but Arnold's chuckles were far too contagious.

"I can't believe she's still one piece, after all the crap she pulls," Helga confessed, still laughing hard.

"Yeah, it's definitely a gift," Arnold chuckled, sipping the last of his Yahoo! soda. "I hope I'm lucky enough to retain all that energy when I'm old."

"You probably will, Football Head," Helga teased, giggling furiously.

Arnold shrugged and smiled, then gazed upward at the stars overhead. He shifted on the spot and sighed heavily. "So many stars…I wish we could see some from our houses."

"Yeah, it sucks we have to run all the way _downtown_ to see any," Helga agreed, looking heavenward as well. The sky had darkened drastically since the two of them had arrived. It seemed like only an hour ago, they were sitting in Bigal's, eating lunch and merely enjoying each other's company. They built little castles with their orders of fries and took shots of coffee creamer, doing more laughing than they did talking. Often, he would hold her gaze a few seconds too long, and he'd grow slightly red in the cheeks if she said anything even remotely about nice about him. She hadn't seen him so happy in months, since he'd been with Lila. She wondered to herself all that day, between the winks of his eye and the brushing of their hands--was this what it felt like, to be one half of a couple?

He'd been awfully friendly with her throughout that day; complimenting her, thanking for her paying for everything--he even grabbed her hand during one of the scarier scenes in the movie. She'd been having such a great time that after they'd left the theater, Helga had almost forgotten about the party.

"Hey, uh…What time is it, Arnoldo?" she asked breathlessly, slightly anxious.

Arnold's face relaxed as he caught his breath and glanced at his phone. "Ten after six."

Helga's smile vanished immediately as she rose up from her spot on the dock and grabbed his arm.

"Whoa, Helga, what--"

"N-nothing, Arnold, we just gotta go, _now_--"

"But Helga--"

She didn't say anything, just pulled him to the street and waved down a taxi. As it pulled up in front of them, she hoped the guy was a fast driver.

"Where are we going?" Arnold asked anxiously, but his smile stuck.

Helga shook her head. "You'll see when we get there."

Arnold lifted an eyebrow, but still looked happy. "Okay--whatever you say, Helga."

She smiled to herself.

---

"What's eating you?"

"Huh?" Curly looked over his shoulder to meet eyes with Sid, who clutched a kazoo in one hand and a noise-maker in the other. The cone-shaped party hat on top of his mop of black hair made him look about five years younger.

"You look kinda pissed," Sid said, fiddling with the elastic under his chin.

Curly shrugged. "I'd be pissed if I were wearing that ridiculous thing."

Sid curled his lips into a sneer and pulled the party hat off.

"Are they here yet?"

"Who--Helga and Arnold?"

"Who else?"

Sid shrugged. "Helga's supposed to text Rhonda when they get here, and she didn't yet."

Curly frowned and turned back around, leaning over the terrace, facing the neighborhood streets below.

"Curly…"

"What?" he asked, still facing the landscape.

"Ever since Rhonda got back with different clothes, _you_ took her bad mood--what's up?"

"Nothing," Curly said hopelessly. "It's nothing, really."

"You sure?" Sid asked, mistrusting. The kid wasn't a genius, but he could easily tell when something was wrong.

"I'm fine, Sid, I'm good! I'm great! I'm fantastic!" Curly exclaimed, whirling around and tossing his arms up.

"Well--okay, if you're sure you're--"

Rhonda came up behind Sid with her phone in hand; eyes wild with excitement. "Helga's almost here with Arnold! Come on, we all gotta hide! Under the table, behind the stereo--anywhere! Go!"

---

Arnold frowned slightly as he peered out the window of the cab and saw his home coming into view.

"My house? Already?"

Helga smiled almost devilishly at him as they pulled up in front of the Sunset Arms. She paid the driver and got out of her side as Arnold got out through his. Confused, he looked curiously at her, waiting for her to say something--explain why they came home so early, but he got nothing. She just led the way to the stoop and opened the door, cursing under her breath after a few of the dozen cats and dogs stepped on her feet as they charged out with a squealing Abner chasing them. Arnold's grandfather was making his way down the front hallway as they stepped inside.

"Oh, hey Arnold, Helga," he said brightly, walking over to the two blondes. "You're just in time, I was just about to go up and lock up the pigeon booth! It's getting cold--can't have the birds freezing!"

Arnold frowned and looked helplessly at Helga, who was, to his surprise, still smirking.

"Does that mean Helga has to--"

"Oh nonsense, she can help!" he said, much to Arnold's dismay. "Come on, let's get up there and see if Pookie got a head start."

Gloomily, Arnold dragged his feet up the staircase, thinking that the last thing he'd want to be doing at the end of the day he'd had was cleaning out the bird home. It wasn't getting so cold that they had to lock up _now_ for the season, but he was more upset about Helga stopping their activities so abruptly. Granted, he was having a fantastic time--lunch at Bigal's, a horror flick, and relaxing on the dock--but it was really her company that made it so much fun. Frowning, he hated to see the day end with pigeon droppings on their clothes, but he supposed that if she was around, it probably wouldn't be too terrible.

They reached the last set of stairs before getting on the roof, and still, Helga hadn't spoken a word, just smiled, seeming utterly pleased with herself. Grandpa looked oddly cheery himself, but Arnold decided he'd rather not question it. With how stubborn they both were, he wouldn't find out, so he just followed them through the last door and stepped onto the roof.

"Huh?"

Several sets of Christmas lights were strung about random poles, and three tents were set up, each with a large table underneath. A big banner hung over the one in the middle that read _**Happy Birthday, Arnold! **_

"What--what's--"

Helga smirked as Arnold watched twenty of his friends pop out from behind tables and stereo speakers, screaming "SURPRISE!" Every face he met was bright and friendly, illuminated by the decorations and the inner happiness as they all came forward to pull him in for an embrace. After hugging each of them, Arnold felt a warmth spreading throughout his body; looking about himself as they closed in around him, he guessed that he was probably the luckiest kid on the planet.

---

"Happy birthday again, man."

"Thanks, Gerald," Arnold said warmly, having hugged his best friend last out of all the party-goers. They made their handshake and grinned, then walked side-by-side to the food table.

"Didn't see that coming, did ya?" Gerald asked him, popping a cheese ball into his mouth and leaning back.

"I definitely didn't, no," Arnold admitted, his eyes dancing around the roof. "I mean--I've never had a birthday party before, so--I really didn't expect it."

"Yeah, well, ya know what they say," Gerald began, eyeing Phoebe across the room, "sixteen is a big deal…"

"Yeah, thanks," Arnold said, following his gaze. Having spotted the girl he'd been looking at, he glanced back at him quickly, frowning.

Gerald shook his head. "Don't thank me for nothin' man--wasn't my idea."

Arnold seemed confused and looked back across the room, at Phoebe, who was chatting casually with Helga and Rhonda.

"Oh. So--wait, who thought of it?"

Gerald smirked, studying the three girls intently. "Man, Arnold--it was all Helga."

Arnold raised both eyebrows and cleared his throat. "Uh--what?"

"You heard me," Gerald told him, elbowing him in the ribs.

"It--what--Helga?" Arnold repeated, incredulous. "You're--you're serious?"

"I kid you not, my brother," Gerald said, almost jealously.

Arnold started chewing lightly on his bottom lip as he averted his gaze back to the three girls. None of them noticed they'd been watching them for several minutes now, luckily. Gerald looked sideways at his friend, trying to guess how shocked he was. He shrugged and poured himself a glass of Sprite. He didn't find it very surprising at all--but then again, not much was hitting him very hard as of late.

"We helped out some, a lot of us," Gerald explained casually. "Your grandparents, too. All the boarders helped out a lot. But yeah…it was all her idea. She bought most of the stuff--the food and…stuff. Planning was mostly her. She wanted to make it happen the most."

Arnold still didn't say anything. There wasn't anything that really needed to be said, anyway, Gerald thought. He already knew. They both knew.

"Gerald, do you remember--"

"Yeah," Gerald cut him off sourly. "I remember, man."

Arnold smiled weakly at his friend--the smile he gave when he needed to ask him something, but wasn't sure how to put it in words. Gerald smirked.

"All this did the talking for her," he said. "Now it's your turn."

Nodding, Arnold inhaled deeply. He bit into one of Rhonda's famous finger sandwiches and looked back in the girls' direction, smiling more genuinely. Gerald shook his head and grinned.

"Whatchu waiting for?" he asked, elbowing the blonde boy again. "Go talk to her!"

Before Arnold could even respond, they saw Rhonda quickly approaching, seeming slightly worried.

"Are the finger sandwiches okay, Arnold?" she asked as if it were a million-dollar question on Jeopardy. "I couldn't decide on Swiss or American cheese, so Helga suggested we go with both of--"

"Is Helga busy?" Arnold interrupted her suddenly, his eyes sparking. "I need to talk to her--"

"Oh, can it wait, Arnold?" Rhonda pleaded. "Your grandparents are on their way back up here with the cake, and then you have to see your presents!"

"Presents? You didn't!" Arnold breathed, overwhelmed. Gerald chortled. He was unfailingly amazed at his friend's humbleness.

"Oh yes we did," Rhonda confirmed. "Now come on, under the other tent! You too, Gerald!"

Gerald rolled his eyes and followed the two of them slowly, hoping that Phoebe wouldn't catch up. He really didn't want to deal with the awkwardness of meeting her eyes. Thankfully, she was already there; it was Helga who came up beside him.

"Pretty good turnout, ey, Hair Boy?" she asked, obviously quite proud of herself.

"Counting your chickens a little early, Helga," he said slightly disdainfully. "Party hasn't really gotten started yet."

"It was deemed a success when he made that face after the big surprise," Helga told him confidently.

"Nah, I'm playin' Helga," Gerald told her, smiling slyly. "You did good. Wish a girl would go all out for me like that."

"Huh?" she gasped.

"Come on, Helga, I know this was all you," Gerald said lowly, inching closer to her under the tent. Most of the lights had gone out as Phil and Gertie came up with the cake, all aglow with candles.

"Psh, no it wasn't, I had a lotta help, I--I--"

"Came up with the idea, paid for almost everything, and took him out all day for a distraction," Gerald finished, eyeing the cake as Phil set it on the table. Nobody really heard them since the rest of the guests were chatting idly amongst themselves.

"So, what's your point?" she asked defensively.

"Oh, you know my point, Pataki," Gerald whispered in her ear.

She didn't have time to retort; everyone was shouting suggestions for Arnold's wish. He was beet red from all the laughing.

"Seriously--seriously guys! What should I wish for?" he asked everyone as a whole.

"Wish for a pony!" Eugene joked.

"Wish for world peace!" Sheena said. "Seriously, though."

"Wish for it to rain malted milk balls!" Harold boomed, munching on a bar of chocolate.

"Not milk balls, make it shoes," Rhonda corrected him.

"Just wish for a thousand more wishes, duh," Sid said obviously.

"Well," Arnold started, finally having calmed down, "I was gonna wish for perfect friends and family, but it seems that I've already got that."

A collective (and somewhat sarcastic) "aaw!" rang through the group as Arnold waved his hands. "No, really…this is all wonderful. You guys are all wonderful. I already have everything I could ever need, so I'm not gonna be selfish--I don't need to wish for anything."

Gerald felt a sinking sensation in his stomach as he looked from Arnold to Phil and Gertie, who were holding hands and grinning madly, their wrinkled faces glowing in the candlelight.

"Not for myself, anyway," Arnold continued. "My birthday wish--actually, my wish for any occasion--is for all your happiness, every one of you."

Gerald swallowed hard, feeling a shrinking inside his throat. Helga, beside him, was biting at her lip, failing in her attempt to hide the widening smile creeping upon her face. Gerald watched as their friends exchanged warm glances, leaning in closer together as Arnold bent over the cake and blew out the sixteen candles. They faded, and soon everything went black, but everyone cheered and whooped as Gertie went to switch the Christmas lights back on. Gerald clapped along with everyone else, knowing what he'd be wishing for on his own birthday next year.

---

Four gift cards, three dress shirts, and one Nikon camera later, Arnold was sitting atop his grandmother's piano, surrounded by the remaining guests. Gerald, Helga, Rhonda, Sid, Harold, Curly, Lila, and Eddie had stuck around even past nine o' clock. The majority of the guests made their exit after the cake had been dished out. The last half of them had spent an hour or so playing games like Charades and Name That Tune. Phil and Gertie, along with the other boarders, had retired to bed, bidding the kids goodnight and taking the remainder of the cake (that is, the remainder that Oskar Kokoshka hadn't already gotten into). The Christmas lights were turned off and the food tables were practically empty (thanks to Harold), so they made a circle about the grand piano with a plug-in disco ball as their only source of illumination.

Arnold leaned over and fingered a few keys on the piano to continue Name That Tune.

"You all _gotta _know this one!"

_Ding ding ding da da ding ding_. _Ding ding ding ding da da ding ding_.

"Oh, oh I know this one!" Rhonda squealed.

"No you don't!" Sid teased, giving her shoulder a little push.

"No, I do! I do!" Rhonda insisted. "It's 'Ice Ice Baby!'"

Curly let his jaw drop in disbelief. "What? How could you say that?"

"Because that's what it is," Rhonda said bluntly.

"It's totally not!" Curly argued. "That's 'Under Pressure' by David Bowie!"

"But it's 'Ice Ice Baby' too!" Rhonda shot back.

"Who cares?" Harold complained. "Same damn thing!"

"No it's not!" Curly protested as Arnold and Gerald laughed. Count on Curly to take it so seriously. "There's a significant difference! There's another '_ding_' in there with 'Under Pressure,' and Arnold did that one, not the 'Ice Ice Baby' one!"

"Hold up, I thought it was the other way around!" Sid said, confused.

"No way! Learn your classic rock, Sid!"

"Actually, Curly," Arnold cut in, still laughing, "you _did_ get it backwards, that was totally 'Ice Ice Baby.' Vanilla Ice's beat is the one that has the extra '_ding_' in there."

"HA!" Rhonda screeched, shoving Curly and knocking his glasses right off. "I told you, you stubborn little dweeb."

Rather than retort, Curly smirked and seized the raven-haired girl, hoisting her up in the air and swinging her around as she screamed. The others laughed heartily for a minute, until Sid finally stopped and said, "Okay…Okay, Curly…you can, ya know…put her down now…"

"Curly, Curly," Helga repeated, annoyed as Rhonda kept screaming--more out of excitement than terror. "Curly!"

He swung her around once more and finally set her down gently, looking curiously at Helga.

"Wassamatter, Helga," he said mockingly, "you jealous?"

"Of what, your ballerina twirls?" Helga threw back at him. "Because if that's what you're referring to, mine are definitely ten times better."

"Psh, whatever," Curly shrugged off. "At least I have something to show for the three years I took dance classes."

"Three?" Helga sputtered. "That ain't nothing."

"Helga--you took ballet?" Arnold asked, strikingly. He couldn't imagine Helga in a pink tutu with matching silk slippers, prancing about a stage.

"Six years," she muttered, folding her arms across her chest.

"No you didn't!" Rhonda laughed, mistrustful. "No way."

"I got the certificate of membership of Mister Step's Dance Academy," Helga started, eyeballing Curly, "and the Hillwood Ballet Competition Trophy to prove it."

"What?" Arnold hissed in disbelief. He exchanged knowing glances with Gerald, who obviously hadn't forgotten the blackmail pictures they retrieved of her in the fourth grade, either. Sid began giggling furiously like a child when Helga stood up.

"You wanna make something of it, shrimp?"

"I say we blast some Mozart up in here and you guys have a dance-off," Gerald suggested jokingly.

"Yeah right," Curly started. "Helga would never go for that, she's too much of a bitch."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Pataki," Curly said louder, testing her. "You're too much of a bitch to do it!"

Arnold and Gerald looked at each other again, laughing maniacally. Neither of them stopped until Lila spoke for what was probably the first time in hours.

"I'm certain I don't see you getting on your feet, Curly."

The group stared at her, surprised; even Eddie looked taken aback slightly.

"What?" Curly asked with attitude.

"Why aren't you showing her up?" she asked politely, seemingly out of pure curiosity. Helga shot a dark look at him in agreement.

"Damn, Curly," Gerald started, "shot down twice in ten fifteen minutes!"

"It's whatever," Curly stated, shrugging and sipping a Yahoo! soda. "Pop the Nutcracker into the stereo and I'll bring it."

"We'll have to do it some other time," Arnold sighed, still smiling out of amusement. "We can't get too out of hand now; it's pretty late. Let's just chill out and relax a while."

"Is there any more finger sandwiches?" Harold asked.

"There's half a plate full over at the table," Rhonda answered, pointing to the tent nearest to the piano.

"Ah, sweet!" Harold breathed, jumping up to get some. Rhonda rolled her eyes as Sid rose from his spot next to her to join him.

"Man, Arnold, what a day," Gerald said, watching the two boys indulge in the leftovers.

"You're telling me, Gerald," Arnold returned, feeling totally content.

"I think I'mma head out, man," he said, getting up and offering his hand. Arnold took it and made their shake, then pulled him in for a small hug. The girls smiled as they watched Gerald take his leave, waving back as he shouted a goodbye.

"Is there still ice cream over there?" Rhonda asked Arnold. He shrugged.

"I think so," Helga said. "We better grab it before Pink Boy swallows the bucket…"

"I called dibs on the chocolate part!" Curly declared, dashing over to the tent.

Rhonda ran after him, yelling in protest; Helga simply trod over without rushing at all. She was probably too exhausted to run; plus, all she had to do was punch Curly and she'd get whatever flavor she wanted.

"It was a nice night, Arnold," Eddie said to the boy, flashing a smile.

"Thanks," Arnold said, smiling back. "And thanks for coming, you guys."

"Thanks for inviting us," Eddie said, standing up. Grasping Lila's hand, he pulled her up too. "Ready to go, love?"

"Yes," Lila started, but looked at Arnold and glanced back at him to request, "Actually--could you give me a minute, Eddie?"

The brunette nodded and kissed her cheek. "I'll be in the car. Goodnight, Arnold."

"Night, Eddie," Arnold returned warmly, now facing Lila. He was still seated on the piano; she came up and rested her elbows on it.

"Arnold…"

He swallowed. "Yeah…?"

She looked up at him. The familiar gleam in her doe eyes shone each time a light from the disco ball caught it. It was quite, quite difficult not to lose himself in them, but he managed to resist.

"I never apologized to you…for what I did," she said softly, inching forward. "And…I'm ever so certain that I'm deeply sorry, from the bottom of my heart…"

A cool ache stabbed at his chest as he breathed, "Oh…Lila, it's…that's all in the past now, it's okay…"

"No, Arnold, what I did to you was terrible," she told him, only a foot away from his face. "I never could have been sorry enough…"

"It's okay, Lila," he insisted calmly. "Really, all is forgiven…"

"Is it really?" she asked slowly.

"Yeah, yeah of course," he promised.

"So--so we're…friends again?" she questioned, obviously desperate for some confirmation.

He gave it. "Yeah, of course, Lila…

She smiled gratefully, batting her eyelashes. "Good. I'm ever so glad…You're such a wonderful friend, Arnold."

"Thanks," he said shakily, remembering when he was more than just that.

"I was so lucky to have had you."

Feeling a faint blush across his cheeks, he shrugged his shoulders. "Ha, well…I would hope I was good enough…"

"You're more than good enough," she told him confidently. "And I know I'm not the only one who sees that."

"Uh…what?"

Lila blinked a few times. "Oh--you must know what I mean."

Arnold gave a hollow chuckle. "Uh…Lila, I--don't know what you're talking about."

"It's not what," she began slyly, "it's who."

She glanced sideways in the direction of the tent, then smirked back at him.

"Lila, I--"

A beep from down in the street rang out. Eddie was honking.

"He's getting impatient," she said. "I suppose I'll go now."

"No--wait, Lila--"

"I'll see you on Monday, Arnold," she said, grinning and walking over to the booth with the staircase.

"No--Lila, if you know something, you gotta tell me!"

Lila giggled and shook her head. "Oh, Arnold…you're so delightfully dense."

"Lila!" he whined, defeated.

"I can't tell you what you already know," she said brightly, then disappeared into the stairwell.

---

Another twenty minutes, and everyone had gone. Everyone but Helga, of course. She would have left with Rhonda, but Arnold looked slightly gloomy when he mentioned the mess that was left, so she pretended to fight her instinct to help him clean up. After saying over and over that she'd rather be getting home and crawling into bed than spending another minute with his football-shaped head, they wrapped up the leftovers and disposed of all the garbage together. They finished by eleven o' clock and sat atop the grand piano, which reminded her--

"Oh shi--"

"What?" Arnold asked, watching Helga pounce off the piano. She darted under one of the tents where her sling purse had sat and grabbed something out of it.

"Helga," he started, his voice softening, "Helga, what's…"

"Almost forgot about this thing," she muttered affably, handing over the gift. She watched his eyes run over the shiny blue wrapping paper and finally fix on her.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Open it and find out, yeesh!" she snapped, failing to withhold her smile.

Eagerly, he tore off the paper, revealing a rather large, bulky songbook. Helga's heart did a back flip when she saw his eyes lighten with joy.

He ran his hand over the cover, which read _**100 of the Most Beautiful Songs Ever**_. Some, she knew to be ones he loved, like Frank Sinatra's "Strangers In the Night" and "Memory" from the musical _Cats_. He slipped off the piano and went right to the bench, opening the book and setting it in front of himself, to test out a few songs.

"Oh…Helga…" he cooed, flipping the pages of sheet music. He stopped at a song placed in the middle and laid his hands on the keys, ready to play.

"Helga…this…"

"You like it, Arnold?" she asked delicately, sitting next to him on the bench.

Instead of answering, he threw himself at her, wrapping his arms about her waist and pulling her tightly against him. She dizzied severely at his touch, but before she allowed a sigh to escape, she pried him off.

"Okay, okay, I get the _message_, geez," she barked. "Now play me something, I didn't get it for you to just _look_ at it."

Arnold smirked at her and looked back at the book, eyeing the page he'd skipped to. Helga inched closer as to see the music too--she couldn't read the notes of course, but she could read the lyrics. He'd opened the page to a song from _The Phantom of the Opera_.

"I've never seen that," she offered, glancing at the title.

Arnold's eyes widened. "What? How have you never seen _The Phantom of the Opera_?"

"I don't _know_, my parents were never that big on _musicals_, so we never watched any!"

"Gosh, _Phantom_ has some of the best, best music, ever," Arnold told her, his voice honeyed and smooth as he gushed. "The best love song is in it too."

"Oh _really_? _This_ one?" she questioned, jerking her head to the open book.

"Yeah, it's '_All I Ask of You_,'" he told her, scanning the music.

"Well, play it already," she demanded.

He chortled. "Well--it's been a while since--I learned it a long time ago, but--I read pretty well, so…I should…"

His voice faded as his fingers took over, allowing the soft, mellifluous playing to surround them. He hit the keys elusively, delicately, but not so softly as to hold the volume at a nearly inaudible level. No, he played with vibrancy, with emotion; his fingers were the tongue that touched against the keys that were his teeth, speaking words of beauty and grace and filling Helga with a more burning adoration for him. Sitting next to him in the dim twilight right then, watching him, hearing him play, she decided that she couldn't remember any other time where the world seemed like such a perfect place.

He touched on the ending chords and gave a hollow laugh, scratching at the back of his neck. "Yeah--I'm a little rough, but--I can practice it more now that I have this."

He met his face to hers, less than a foot away. "Helga…this…this is really, really amazing."

"Well, I--I…"

"Just when I thought this day couldn't get any better, you went and tipped me over," he said amiably.

_Criminey, what the hell do I say to that?_

"Well--I--ya know, it was--it's all for your _birthday_, and I--I--"

"I've never seen you do anything like this for anyone before, Helga," he told her, his green eyes piercing through hers, stripping her of every disguise.

"_So_, what's--what's the big deal?" she asked, quivering on the spot, not tearing away from his gaze. She couldn't; the boy was simply magnetic.

"Why--why did you do all of this for me?" he probed. He was only inches away. "The day out, the party idea, the book--why?"

He was much too close. The deep scent of his oceanic shampoo swam in her head as she muttered faintly, "Be-because…I wanted to…"

"Why?" he asked slowly, innocently, getting even closer. She could have counted every golden streak in his pear green irises.

"Because…because…"

"Because…?" he inquired, inching even closer. It took all of her might, but she backed up on the bench--so far that she wound up on the floor.

"Helga--you okay?" he asked, half-laughing. He offered his hand and she grudgingly took it, allowing him to pull her back up.

"I'm _fine_, Arnoldo, geez! Maybe if you knew _anything_ about personal _space_, I wouldn't have fallen off the bench!"

"I'm sorry," he apologized quietly.

She grunted.

"But maybe if you knew how to answer questions, I wouldn't have to pry so much," he added devilishly.

Helga raised an eyebrow at him. "I know how to answer questions perfectly _fine_, _Arnoldo_."

"Then why won't you answer me?" he asked, his eyes pleading with her. "Really, Helga, I don't think it's really a big deal--"

"Well it _is_ a big deal, okay?!" she burst.

"Helga, if it's what I think it is, it's really not a--"

"No, it _is_, you don't under_stand_, Arnold, it's a really, really effing _huge_ big deal, okay?"

"But, Helga, I--"

"No," she blurted, more afraid than angry. She rose up from the bench. "No. No 'buts.' And if you think it is what I _know_ it is, then--then--"

"Then what, what do you think I think it is?" he asked gently, getting up as well.

Biting at her lip, Helga shook her head vigorously. "I can't--I can't--"

"Yes, you can," he encouraged. "Helga…what are you afraid of?"

Still shaking her head in protest, she murmured, "You're really not as 'delightfully dense' as Lila put it."

"You heard--"

"Stop, Arnold," she told him abruptly. "Just…stop. Don't--don't do it."

"But…Helga…"

"Just _shut up _about it, Arnold," she quipped, but then added gently, "please…"

Arnold frowned at her for a long time. Realistically, it probably only lasted a few seconds, but still, to her, anything with him felt like a long time to her. He sat back down on the bench and patted the space next to him, urging her to sit back down, too.

Timidly, she obliged, frightened that if she were to look him in the face too soon, she'd confess right there and confirm his guesswork, so she stared emptily at the open songbook. The lyrics of the love song he'd just played stared right back; every word screaming at her inside her mind.

Arnold put his fingers back to the keys, fumbling around the piano and playing the song over. She watched silently as he glanced back and forth between the keys and the book, thinking that all he had to do was pay attention to the song, and he'd understand how she felt. Maybe he already had. The smile and wink he gave her said so.

He really _couldn't be that dense._

_---_

**A/N**: Wow, ten pages here in Microsoft Word. Hope that's long enough to hold you all over for a while--what a holiday!

I hope this was a good read for you guys, and that you all feel warm and cozy about now. That bit up there was probably one of the sweetest moments I've ever written--lame, huh?

Anyway--again, a very happy holiday to the lot of you, and thank you for reading and reviewing. More coming very soon.


	12. Twelve

**Beforehand**--It's official--my reviewers are the best. All my loving to you guys.

My apologies for the slow update.

Let's get on with the fic, shall we?

**Dis-claym-urr**: What's mine is mine; what isn't is Mr. Bartlett's.

---

**Chapter 12**: Have We Met?

"Man…you really_weren't_ talking crazy, Arnold…"

Arnold and Gerald lay spread-eagled on the pullout beds on the roof of the Sunset Arms, enjoying the sight of the few stars they could see above the city lights. They'd been lounging there for hours, discussing what had happened between Helga and himself after everyone left his birthday party the week before.

"I told you I was right," Arnold told him, gazing heavenward, his arms behind his head.

"Sorry I didn't believe you, man," Gerald apologized, taking the same position.

Arnold shook his head. "Nah, I don't blame you. Anyone could've been fooled. Even _I_ was for a while..."

"Yeah," Gerald agreed. "That Helga is something else."

"Yeah," Arnold said, smiling slightly. "I just--I can't figure it out, though. Why does she hide it?"

"Is it really _that_ tough of a question, Arnold?"

The blonde looked sideways at his friend, who continued, "Think of who Helga _is_--who she makes herself out to be, anyway. She doesn't wanna be vulnerable."

Arnold frowned, obviously misunderstanding the relevance.

"Look at the family she's got…look at how she was treated as a kid," Gerald went on, trying to help him. "You really think she's gonna have an easy time trusting anyone?"

"But…How do you love someone without trusting them?" Arnold asked.

"It's possible," Gerald guessed. "For Helga, anyway. She was so used to being pushed aside, to losing to someone who was thought to be better than her--how's she supposed to trust anyone _not_ to leave her?"

Arnold closed his eyes and sighed, thinking of Olga, her "perfect" sister, and of Lila, her "perfect" rival. She spent _years_ losing to them, in her family life _and_ her romantic life. Gerald was right. How was she supposed to trust that she wouldn't lose again?

"…What do I do, Gerald?"

"You like her, Arnold?" he asked sincerely, meeting his eyes.

Arnold blinked slowly. He thought of her laugh, her smile, her grace on the baseball field, her award-winning poetry. Her uncanny ability to read his mind, to predict his actions; her raw, blunt, laid-back attitude. The way she put honesty over everything. Her determination and her spirit; her loyalty and her bravery. He smiled.

"Yeah."

"Well, don't do anything."

"Huh?" Arnold asked, confused. He sat up on the pull-out bed, propped on one elbow.

"You heard me--don't do anything."

"But, Gerald--why?"

"Because, man," Gerald started, sitting up too, "it's not enough."

Arnold frowned, flummoxed by his words of advice. Gerald looked at him somberly and sighed.

"Trust me, man. It's better to wait a while."

"But…Gerald, I don't understand. Why?"

Gerald gave him a small, confident smile. "You'll get it in time."

"But--but--"

"When you know what I'm talking about, that's when you'll be ready. Til then, don't do anything."

Arnold rolled his eyes and groaned, flopping himself back onto the pullout bed while Gerald gazed up at a single star overhead, still smiling slightly.

---

"…And Mr. Huynh, you'll be Dracula."

"But _I_ want to be Dracula!"

"Pipe down Kokoshka, you're Dracula every other year! Give someone else a chance!"

"The old man right, Oskar, I never get to be the vampire!"

"Yeah, can it, Kokoshka, let _him_ be Dracula so _I _can be Frankenstein!"

"But if Mr. Huynh is being the vampire, _I _want to be the monster!"

"Yeah, plus, Frankenstein needs a bride; it only makes sense that Oskar would be the monster!"

Arnold shook his head as he passed the living room and stopped at the mirror in the hallway, only half-listening to the argument his grandfather and the boarders were having about their annual Halloween party. Every year since he was seven, he'd been chased out of his home on Halloween so that the adults could have their fun. This year would be no different.

The boarders had been conjugating in the living room for hours that night, only a few days before the holiday. He'd received his invitation to Rhonda's Halloween bash and was looking it over, studying himself in the mirror and wondering what on earth he should go as.

He studied his own face for a moment, pondering dressing like some famous actor, but he didn't really resemble anyone in particular at all, so that was out. He certainly couldn't be a knight--he'd done that last year. Not a pirate, either; too many people at school would be pirates. A secret agent wasn't original enough, and he didn't feel like going crazy with face paint for any kind of monster, so Arnold was relatively fresh out of ideas. He had thought of coordinating costumes with Gerald, but then decided he didn't want to go as a hippie.

As he contemplated finding some sort of super hero costume, a loud knock came from the front door. He opened it and met eyes with Sid, who was rocking back and forth on his heels on the stoop.

"Hey, Arnold."

"Hey, Sid, what's going on?" Arnold asked, inviting him in.

"I kinda have a problem," Sid began, setting down a duffle bag.

"What is it?"

"Well, you know Rhonda's party is on Friday, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, she and all the other girls are doing this Disney princess thing," he started, his voice droning, "and she wants me to go as the Prince Charming to her Snow White."

"And you don't wanna do it," Arnold guessed. The face Sid made confirmed it.

Arnold sighed. "Well, Sid, just tell her you'd rather not dress up; I'm sure she'll understand."

"I can't tell her that, Arnold!" Sid yelped. "You can't _tell_ Rhonda stuff she doesn't wanna hear, it never ends well! You _have_ to give her what she wants!"

Baffled, Arnold blinked several times and said, "Sid--that's not true, it's unhealthy to think that way, really--"

"Arnold, you don't _understand_ what it's like being Rhonda Lloyd's boyfriend," Sid whined.

And he didn't want to.

"Well--Sid, you can either wear the costume and be miserable, confront her about it and come up with some sort of compromise, or just show up to her party without a costume and hope for the best."

Sid bit the corner of his bottom lip and stared at a spot on the ground. He looked back up at the blonde boy and, smacking his lips, he said, "Yeah, I'll go with that last one."

Arnold widened his eyes and shook his head. "Sid--seriously, that wasn't a good idea, I shouldn't have said that--"

"I'll take my chances," Sid said, shrugging. "Oh--Gerald told me you were having trouble figuring out what to be, so I brought over some stuff for you."

Arnold glanced at the duffle bag on the floor. "In that?"

"No, in my pants," Sid said sarcastically.

Arnold knelt down and unzipped the duffle, taking out what seemed to have been a red cloak and a pair of brown boots.

"What's this stuff?"

"Well--some of the girls are gonna be short of princes, so," Sid started, winking.

Arnold smiled weakly, pulling out a black belt and a grey tunic and getting the idea. Looking at the material, he thought it over in his head.

"Thanks, Sid."

"No problem," his friend said. "See ya in school tomorrow."

"Yeah, see ya," Arnold said, waving as he ushered Sid out the front door. Staring at the costume in the bag, he knew immediately who his princess was going to be.

---

Having no friends meant having no place to sit at lunch, and not having a place to sit at lunch meant having to eat it in the bathroom. Lila never really pictured herself being so unpopular that she'd have to resort to such a routine, but after what had happened between Arnold and herself several months before had pushed her to form it.

It wasn't so bad, really, taking the brown bag and picking a stall to hide in while everyone else crowded into the cafeteria. She went to a different bathroom every day to avoid being seen, and whenever a girl happened to come in, she just stood on the toilet held her breath. This was a rare occurrence, luckily, so she was mostly at peace. At least, until one Thursday afternoon.

Lila had just stepped in front of the mirror in the B100 bathroom when the door flung open abruptly. She froze on the spot, clutching her brown bagged lunch in fright, but the girl that stormed in didn't seem to take note of her. She stopped in front of the first sink, leaning over it and pressing her head against the mirror. Tears were falling fast down her face and into the drain. Lila felt her muscles relax as she let out a small sigh.

"Oh…are you okay?" she heard herself say in a small voice.

The girl turned her face to meet hers, sniffling and shaking her head. She gave a hollow giggle as she told her, "Oh--yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just a little pissed off."

"Do you need a tissue?" Lila asked, reaching into her purse for one.

The girl smiled weakly through her blubbers and sputters. "That would be really nice, actually--thank you."

She took a Kleenex from Lila and wiped her tears with it, but the black mascara stained her cheeks. She tossed the tissue into the trash can and looked herself over in the mirror.

"Ha, I'm a mess…"

"Would you like another tissue?" Lila asked.

The girl shook her head. "Nah, not now…I'm good, thank you, um--"

"Lila," she introduced herself, smiling weakly and offering a hand.

The girl took it graciously and heaved, nodding. "Isabella."

Lila cocked her head to the side as she looked into her eyes. They were a very light brown, almost golden in color, and her lashes were very long.

"Um, pardon if I'm mistaken, but…have we met?"

Isabella sniffled and rubbed one of her eyes. The tips of her fingers turned black from the makeup.

"We might have," she agreed, looking Lila up and down. "You…wouldn't happen to be friends with--Arnold, would you?"

Lila nodded, smiling more genuinely. "Yes."

"Were you at his surprise party?" Isabella asked, facing the mirror again. She pulled paper towels out of the dispenser and ran water lightly over them. "That's probably where you recognize me from."

Lila watched her as she wiped her eyes with the damp paper and furrowed her brow. Glancing over her dark hair and slender figure, she said, "Um, I'm not so sure."

Isabella tossed the papers into the trash bin and looked at Lila, her face cleaner and smoother now. She blinked her round, brown eyes.

"Oh?"

Lila squinted and looked her over again. "No, it couldn't have been the party…I'm certain I've seen you somewhere before that."

"Well, it _is_ a big school," Isabella admitted, half-smiling. "Maybe you've seen me around."

Lila shook her head. "Were you--did you go to Homecoming?"

Isabella nodded. "Yeah, I went with Arnold."

Lila felt a light go on in her head. "Yes! I'm sure that's where it was."

"Really?" Isabella asked. "Wait--were you in a green dress?"

"Mhm."

"Were you…" Isabella suddenly became fixated with a spot on the wall.

"Was I…what?" Lila asked innocently.

Isabella shook her head. "Nah, it's rude, and--embarrassing, I shouldn't--"

"Wait," Lila said, realizing. "You were the girl who found Eddie and I in the hallway…weren't you?"

Isabella shrugged. "Yeah, I'm still so sorry about that, I really didn't mean to disturb you guys."

Lila smiled sweetly, touching a hand to the girl's arm. "No, no, I'm certain that it's okay, but--why did you do that?"

"I could have _sworn_ he was my brother," Isabella confessed. "I'm sorry. It was dark, and--he has the same hair, and he's the same height, and…I was just afraid he was messing with a girl again…"

Lila frowned, feeling slightly queasy. "He…he does that?"

"Often, sadly," Isabella said. "That's why I busted up in here bawling my eyes out--I found out he was the one who really hurt that girl at Homecoming--Sadie something."

"Sadie Applebee?"

"Yeah, that's it."

"She--did she press charges?" Lila asked, hopefully.

Isabella groaned. "If she was smart, she would…she hasn't told her parents, or anyone of authority, but word is starting to spread, because Diana Trumble can't keep her mouth shut. If she doesn't want anyone of importance to know, she better make sure Rhonda Lloyd doesn't ever find out…"

"I'm…ever so sorry that your brother would do something like that," Lila said apologetically.

"I never thought I'd want to see my brother get locked up, but, whatever it takes…I just wish Robbie would stop…"

Lila felt her heart drop. "R-Robbie? That's--your brother?"

"My twin, actually," she admitted, shrugging. "Thankfully we don't look _too_ much alike…why?"

"No--nothing," Lila lied, looking into one of the mirrors. "I--I have to go--pleasure to meet you, Isabella."

She scurried out of the bathroom so quickly that she didn't even hear her say, "You too, Lila."

---

"I can't _believe_ I let you talk me into this…"

Helga pulled on the skirts of her rose-colored gown, examining herself in front of one of Rhonda's full length mirrors. The little golden crown on her head glinted in the bedroom light as she turned this way and that, scrutinizing herself as Sleeping Beauty.

"Oh, put a sock in it, Helga, you look amazing," Rhonda insisted, looking extremely lovely as Snow White in her blue bodice and yellow skirts. She even chopped her hair up to chin-length to look more the part.

"I have to concur," Phoebe said, tying her hair back into a knot at the top of her head. She turned in her seat at Rhonda's vanity to face Sheena, who then powdered white face makeup on her.

"I don't know why we _all_ had to be Disney princesses, even _Li_la and the Winters girl," Helga grunted, sitting on Rhonda's canopy bed. "It's not like _all_ of us have _princes_ to match."

"Well, Sid's going as _my_ Prince Charming, and Leo's going as Sheena's."

"I still don't understand why Snow White and Cinderella have the same prince," Sheena said, brushing dark eye-shadow on Phoebe.

"Maybe Walt Disney ran out of ideas for names," Rhonda suggested, unraveling the chord on the blow-dryer.

"Or maybe the fairy tales are just screwed up," Helga groaned, wincing as Rhonda heated the ends of her hair. "Easy on the heat there, Princess."

"Sorry," Rhonda muttered, brushing the ends of Helga's blonde locks. "It has be voluminous, like Princess Aurora's."

"Why did _I_ have to be Sleeping Beauty?" Helga complained.

"You're the only blonde that looks _that_ good in so much pink," Nadine told her, adjusting her skirt.

"_First_ of all, her dress was supposed to be _blue_, and second of all, since when did we assign princesses by _hair color_? Cinderella's _blonde_, and Pocahontas has _black_ hair!" Helga snapped, throwing dirty looks at Sheena and Nadine. "_I'm_ the only one with a similar skin color to Pocahontas's," Nadine said sensibly, straightening her long hair. "Plus, she's my favorite. Isn't Aurora yours?"

"_No_, actually, it was _Megara, _from Hercules," Helga told her grumpily.

"Well, the place that made the costumes didn't have the right material for Megara," Rhonda said, turning the blow-dryer off and running her fingers through Helga's hair. "So you're just gonna have to deal with being Sleeping Beauty."

Helga groaned as Sheena dabbed the last bit of makeup on Phoebe, who looked very pretty as Mulan in her pink and purple kimono. She sighed happily as she glanced at herself in the mirror, then smiled and suggested they head downstairs to make sure everything was set for the party.

"Yes, let's, my Prince should be here soon, ooh!" Rhonda squeaked excitedly, practically floating on her little golden heels as she left her bedroom.

Reluctantly, Helga followed the happy girls, making no attempt to conceal her jealousy.

---

**A/N**: That was a short one, but the next one is coming up shortly. I'd say within the next couple days. I'm sorry for the delay--I feel bad, I made you wait a few days and then I gave you a lousy chapter…next one will be boss, I promise.

Happy New Year, kids! Stay siked!


	13. Thirteen

**Beforehand**--102 reviews--I surpassed my first fic! Woooooweeeeeee (insert throwing of confetti)

Also--a _thousand_ apologies to all of you--I hate it when fics I love don't get updated, and I've left you guys hanging for a considerable week. Forgive?

I felt kinda weird writing about Halloween when we just rang in the new year, but here goes.

Enjoy, loves.

**Dis-claym-urr**: What's mine is mine; what's not is Craig's.

---

**Chapter 13**: You've Got Time to be Right

"Where are _you_ going?"

Isabella turned away from her mirror to meet her twin, leaning in the doorway to her bedroom. She rolled her eyes and looked at herself again, raising her hands up to her hair.

"A Halloween party, _obviously_."

"Oh. I was wondering why you were sporting that...ravishing gown. Who the hell are you supposed to _be_, anyway?"

Isabella curled her lips into a sneer. "Belle. You know, from Beauty and the Beast?"

"Oh…_yes_, I see it now," Robbie slurred, striding into his sister's room. He looked her up and down perversely, admiring her golden attire. "She was the most beautiful of the Disney princesses."

"I'm surprised you remember what any of them looked like," Isabella said somberly, pinning a gold barrette in her hair.

"Give me some credit, Izzy. I didn't do _that _many drugs in middle school."

Isabella clutched her bodice and examined herself from different angles in her mirror and said, "Whatever. Why are you even in my _room_, anyway? Don't you have somewhere to go?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Robbie told her, standing close enough to her to make her share the reflection.

"Well--_I_ have to get going soon," she said hurriedly, backing away. "I don't wanna be late for the party."

"Whose party is it?"

"Like I'm gonna tell you."

Robbie smirked. "Okay, whatever. Just be careful, Izzy…those boys are dogs."

"And who would know better than you?" Izzy asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

Robbie made a mock-wounded face and breathed, "Ouch."

Isabella lifted her eyebrows at him in a knowing manner and ceased fiddling with her hair.

"Well…have fun, sis. I'm off to…wreak havoc, or something."

"Don't wreak too much of it," Isabella warned mockingly, watching him exit her bedroom. She stood still in front of her mirror until she heard the front door slam, then let out a long sigh.

---

Lila slipped into her silver flats and smoothed out her sparkling blue dress. Flipping her fiery red hair about her shoulders, she supposed that she hadn't felt this beautiful or fresh in months. Looking over herself in the mirror, she grinned wickedly at herself. She made a very pretty Ariel. She did twirls around her bedroom floor until her phone went off.

"Hello?" she said, picking it up.

Eddie breathed hard on the other line. "Hey lovely."

"Eddie…are you all right?" she asked, hearing the strain in his voice.

"Yes, I'm fine, but my car isn't," he told her in grunts. "I can't take you to the party, darling, I'm sorry. Maybe I can come later on, but right now I need to get John over here and have my car towed…"

"Oh I'm ever so sorry, Eddie!" she squeaked worriedly. "You're sure you're all right?"

"Yes," he sighed hopelessly. "Just pretty mad about the car…I can't believe it, that guy rear ended me _real_ good, and then he just took off, I don't even know where to…"

Lila frowned. "You know, I won't go to the party if you--"

"No," he told her. "No, lovely, go on ahead. Rhonda wants you there. I'll try and show up later, all right?"

"If you're sure…"

"Positive," Eddie told her, a smile coming through in his voice. "Don't have too much fun without me, okay?"

"I won't," Lila said truthfully, and bid him goodbye. Sighing, she strongly considered not even going, but surely Eddie would be disappointed, especially if he came later. For his sake, she grabbed her coat and left her house, headed to the bus stop on her street, hoping that this minor predicament would be the worst of the night.

---

Arnold arrived at the Lloyd's manor fashionably late, just as he knew his hostess liked it. However, Rhonda wasn't the one who opened the door to invite him in; it was Phoebe.

"Oh--Hey, Phoebe," he greeted her brightly.

"Good evening, Arnold," she returned just as happily. "How are you doing? That's an enchanting costume!"

"Thanks, yours too," Arnold said. "How's the party looking so far?"

"Not so wonderful, truthfully," she admitted. "Would you happen to know the whereabouts of Sid? Rhonda's been searching around for him for the past hour. He was supposed to have arrived a long while before the party even started."

Arnold scratched at the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Um, sorry, Phoebe, I don't really know where he could be…"

"Stinky and Harold haven't gotten here yet either, so he might be with them," Phoebe said mostly to herself, putting a hand to her chin. "Well, thanks anyway, Arnold. Refreshments and music are in the usual spots. I'll see you later!"

"Later, Phoebe," Arnold said, waving at her as she scurried off to the living room, probably to go after the hostess. He looked about himself, guessing that the party was much more crowded than it had been last year, and darted off in the direction of the punch table. As he poured himself a glass of the sparkling red juice, someone tapped his shoulder.

"Hey, you!"

Arnold met Isabella with a smile and replied, "Hey! Great costume, Izzy, it's uh…Belle, right?"

"Yeah, it is," she said, her face flushing.

"Wow, it looks really authentic," he told her, examining the ball gown.

"Rhonda's parents ordered special custom-made dresses for Rhonda's girls," Isabella said.

"Wow…I didn't know you were such good friends with Rhonda," Arnold said, surprised.

"I'm not," she laughed hollowly. "She was just in need of a Belle. You'll notice the Disney princess theme tonight. Even Lila's one of them."

"Lila?" Arnold repeated. "She's here too?"

"If she's not here yet, I'm sure she's coming," Isabella said. "She's the Little Mermaid. She's the only redhead Rhonda talks to, so…"

"I see," Arnold said, scanning the room for Lila. "How long have you been here?"

"Around fifteen minutes," she said, pouring herself a glass of punch. "I didn't leave until Robbie took off. My Aunt hates it when Robbie's home alone. She thinks he'll set the apartment on fire or something."

Arnold furrowed his brow, wondering how likely such an idea was, and said, "Does he know you're here?"

Isabella shook her head. "He shouldn't. All I said was that I'd be at a party--I didn't say whose. Luckily, he doesn't know that I know Rhonda." She sipped her drink and smacked her lips, then giggled, "Plus, there's a _ton_ of parties going on in the city tonight--what are the chances he'll crash _this_ one?"

Arnold chortled with her and sipped his drink too, hoping that Robbie really was as dumb as she'd made him seem. He'd never met the guy before, but from what had been going through the grapevine, he didn't particularly want to.

"So, who are _you_ supposed to be, hm?" Isabella asked, elbowing him playfully.

"Oh--uh--Prince…Phillip," he answered uneasily, hoping he didn't sound like a sap. "Ya know, from uh…"

"Sleeping Beauty," Isabella finished. "Any reason why?"

Arnold shrugged and sipped his drink again. "I couldn't really think of anything else to be…"

"_Sure_," Isabella said slowly. "It has _nothing_ to do with that Princess Aurora over there, right?"

"Where?" Arnold asked, startled.

Isabella jerked her head towards the entrance to the living room, where a very beautiful blonde girl in a pink ball gown was conversing with a frazzled and clearly upset Snow White.

"Helga and Rhonda," Isabella said, grinning devilishly.

Arnold felt his face flush. He opened his mouth to spit out some sort of believable explanation, but she was nowhere near as gullible as he'd hoped.

"And you're gonna try to tell me that dressing as her prince was a coincidence?" Isabella teased, watching with glee as Arnold swayed on the spot uncomfortably. "Don't worry. I hear you're a great actor--you'll have no problem playing it off like it was an accident."

Before Arnold could say anything, Isabella bustled away upstairs, where a few people had started playing pool. Alone with the refreshments, Arnold looked desperately around the room for Gerald, who was nowhere in sight.

---

"--And he won't answer his phone, and Stinky _swears _he doesn't know where he is--"

"Will you pipe _down_, Princess? Freaking out like this isn't gonna make him get here any _faster_!"

Rhonda and Helga scurried upstairs into the Billiards room, arguing on the way.

"Didn't you hear Lila talking about that car accident?!" Rhonda screeched. "What if Sid got caught up in it? What if he's hurt somewhere?"

"That _accident_ happened a couple streets down from _Li_la's house," Helga told her, resting her hands on her hips in a know-it-all fashion. "Sid lives on the _opposite side _of the neighborhood; why would he be over _there_?"

Rhonda huffed and puffed and sank into one of the plastic chairs that were set up, burying her face in her hands. "I haven't heard from him all day--what could he be doing?"

"He's probably still mad at you for going through with the whole Disney couples idea and wants to piss you off by showing up halfway into the party," Helga guessed reasonably.

"Oh whatever, Sid's not that immature!" Rhonda argued.

Helga shook her head and rolled her eyes. "I'm gonna go run by his house and see if he's there, _okay_? Just try and chill out--there's probably nothing wrong with him."

Helga left the hostess sulking in her seat and descended the staircase, entering the spare room and looking about, wondering if maybe Sid had arrived and was just hiding from Rhonda. Why he would feel the need to do so, she didn't know, but she continued looking for him anyway. She was about to turn into the living room when someone bumped into her and nearly knocked her over.

"Ouch--dammit, watch where you're--"

"Helga!"

"Arnold!" she gasped, leaning on the wall. Shaking her head furiously, she demanded, "Where's the _fire_, Football Head?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he returned, adjusting the clasp on his cloak. "What's wrong?"

"Princess Rhonda's up there moping around because Sid hasn't shown up yet," Helga told him, jerking her thumb towards the staircase. "You seen him?"

Arnold shook his head, subtly eyeing her body in that flowing pink gown.

Helga scoffed and put a hand to her forehead. "I swear, when I find that little runt--"

"Do you need help looking?" Arnold asked quickly.

Helga met his eyes uncertainly, stammering a slur of "if you really want to" and "whatever floats your boat" and quickly made a dash for the front door. She jogged carelessly down the front steps despite her dragging hem and set off down the sidewalk.

"W-where are we going?" Arnold asked her, finally matching her stride.

"Seeing if the shrimp is still at home," Helga answered sharply, gathering her skirts. Rhonda would kill her if she got this costume the least bit dirty.

Arnold breathed a long sigh, sparking curiosity in the blonde girl.

"What's eating _you_?"

"I…think I might know why Sid hasn't shown up yet."

---

It was a place he'd often visited in his many fantasies--regal and luxurious; fit for a princess. Pink walls with white trim, elaborate white dresser sets and vanity, a lavish canopy bed--complete with an entertainment center and princess-sized walk-in closet. Yes, Rhonda Lloyd's bedroom looked exactly as he pictured it would in his head. He would have killed to step foot inside of it, even for just a minute, only a year ago--but now, peering in to find the raven-haired girl sobbing obnoxiously on the bed over a seemingly trivial matter, he wasn't so sure.

"Uh…Rhonda?"

"What do _you_ want, you fiend?"

Curly tiptoed into her room, removing his magician's hat and gloves as he did so. Dismally, he considered her face, taking note of the tears that had smudged what little makeup she'd worn.

"Uh…I talked to Helga. She said Sid's on his way over here."

"He is?" she gushed, sniffling and wiping her cheeks. "Is he all right? What took him so long? What happened?"

"He uh…actually didn't plan on coming," Curly answered, feeling more than only slightly apprehensive.

"What?" Rhonda uttered, completely disbelieving. "You're joking. That's totally ridiculous; why _wouldn't_ he want to come?"

"He didn't wanna wear your costume."

Rhonda gawked at him for a few moments, mouth agape; it seemed as if she were going to somehow stab him with her shadowing dark eyes, but she then gave a slow, hollow laugh.

"You're not serious."

Curly swallowed and cocked his head. "I'm…not lying, Rhonda."

"He didn't show up because he didn't wanna wear my costume," she repeated, standing up slowly. "My custom-made, two-hundred twenty-five dollar Prince Charming costume that he _promised_ me he was going to wear tonight for the party. _That's_ what you're telling me, correct?"

Curly nodded, also standing up, level with her eyes. "Y-yeah."

"Thaddeus," Rhonda said mockingly sweetly, laying a hand on his shoulder (he quivered under her small touch), "I'm going to need you to fetch my boyfriend for me, please. If you _don't_ mind. I need to have a word with him."

Nodding vigorously, Curly turned on his heel and exited Rhonda's bedroom, wondering why of all people, he had to be the one to break the news to her.

---

"This seat taken?"

Lila looked up to find Isabella, the stressed-out chocolate-haired girl she'd met properly only a day before. The way the golden bodice hugged her chest and the skirts accentuated her hips made her face get hot with jealousy, but she smiled up at her anyway and patted the chair.

"You keeping to yourself too?" she asked, flipping her curls over her shoulder.

Lila nodded and fiddled with the shimmering blue material of her dress.

"Isn't Eddie supposed to be coming?"

"He got into a car accident on the way to my house earlier," Lila told her with a low tone.

When Isabella's eyes widened, Lila shook her head. "Oh I'm certain he's all right--someone just carelessly rear-ended him. Eddie's okay. He still wanted to come here, though, he just…hasn't told me when yet."

"I see," Isabella said, adjusting her golden gloves and looking about the Billiards room. A few costumed boys were intently playing a game with a few upperclassmen girls watching, clearly only pretending to be interested.

"Is he dressing up?" she asked, eyeing a handsome boy standing to her far right, clad in ballroom attire.

Lila felt her head lighten a little as she answered, "Yes, he's coming as a masquerade gentleman."

"Not as your prince, _Ariel_?" Isabella teased.

"I told him he didn't have to be Prince Eric if he didn't want to," Lila said graciously. "He was excited about wearing something that required a mask--I didn't want to ruin his fun by commanding that we coordinate outfits."

"At least _someone_ thinks their boyfriend's preferences have some importance."

Lila furrowed her brow in question, and Isabella scoffed.

"You didn't hear the yelling from upstairs?"

Before Lila even shook her head, Isabella explained, "Sid and Rhonda are getting into it over some costume issue. Apparently she's flipping because Sid didn't wanna be caught dead in a fancy prince getup."

Lila raised her eyebrows in slight disbelief while Isabella scratched idly at her neck. "The whole thing's stupid--Rhonda's such a drama queen. She treats Sid like he's some…I don't know. Her man candy or something. There's no depth to their relationship, as far as I can see."

Lila shifted in her seat, thinking that the last phrase she uttered had the most meaning in everything she'd just said. Uncomfortably, Lila murmured, "Well…she doesn't really ask Sid to do anything for her, and he never really _does_…coming to the party as her Prince Charming was the only thing she wanted, and he couldn't even do _that_ for her…"

Isabella rolled her eyes, nonverbally expressing her disagreement with that, but shrugged. "Oh well. Not our worry, right?"

Lila nodded and smiled slightly. "I'm oh too sure of it."

"It sounds kinda mean," Isabella started, "but I kinda hope they break up."

Lila swallowed. She couldn't say that she agreed, but she knew of people who did--most of those people being Rhonda and Sid's own close friends. When your own dearest friends thought you should split with someone, Lila thought, it must be true. She looked uncertainly at Isabella and wondered who thought the same about her and Eddie.

---

"How is she?"

"Who, _Princess_?"

"If by that you mean Rhonda--"

"Still bitching at Popsicle Nose."

"_Still_?"

Arnold and Helga had been keeping most of the guests entertained with the presentation of the special desserts and various party games for the past couple of hours; a task neither of them enjoyed very much. Helga was too impatient and uptight to be a hostess, and Arnold was exhausted from being bombarded by all the people there.

If he didn't know better, he could suppose that Helga's flaring temper was due to the excessive amount of attention he'd been getting from the skimpily-clad upperclassmen girls, but he wouldn't admit such a conceited notion out loud. He'd been making a joke of it most of the night, but Helga wasn't taking to it. The subject of Rhonda's plight with Sid hadn't made it much better.

"You think maybe--maybe we should go up and check on them?" he suggested a little worriedly.

"What, to make sure Sid didn't get stabbed with salon scissors?" Helga asked sarcastically, smirking.

Arnold swallowed, furrowing his brow. "Uh…"

"I wouldn't intrude, if I were you," Helga told him seriously. "Hell, I wouldn't do it, even being me."

"But they've been up there a really long time--"

"_So_?"

"You seem pretty unenthusiastic about what's going on with them," Arnold said, sitting down next to the blonde. She had taken a breather out on the balcony to escape the mild chaos inside, and he followed after making sure the remaining thirty or so party guests were conveniently occupied with a Twister tournament.

Helga raised an eyebrow at him. "And _you_ seem a little _too_ interested, _Arnoldo_."

Arnold shrugged. "I just want to see them happy."

"Well you're not gonna see _that_ anytime soon."

Arnold scooted closer to her on the bench, watching her eyes catch the moonlight as they met his.

"Why is that?" he asked softly.

"Because," she started, folding her arms, "as long as they're together, it's just not possible."

Arnold shook his head and frowned. "I don't understand."

Sighing in defeat, Helga rolled her eyes. Cinching Arnold's chin between her thumb and forefinger, she directed his head towards a window on the third story of the mansion, forcing him to look up into Rhonda's bedroom window. Hers and Sid's silhouettes could be seen behind the white curtain; arms flailing in anger and frustration and jaws dropping to let out screams.

"Look at them, Arnold. Just look."

He did. He was looking. Watching.

"They're still fighting, after two or three hours…"

"_Doi_," Helga said, releasing her grasp on his face. "Anyone who fights that long isn't a happy couple at all, and they're not gonna be one after it's over."

Arnold felt confused; he looked quizzically at her, only to see that she rolled her eyes again.

"Don't you get it, Football Head?" she barked, gesturing towards Rhonda's window. "Don't you see? All that over a stupid disagreement. That big blow-up just because Sid didn't wanna do _one_ thing she wanted him to. What does that _tell_ you, Arnold?"

"That…Rhonda gets too mad about stupid things?"

Helga put a hand to her forehead and then stared at him through half-lidded eyes. "_Besides_ that. Come on, Arnoldo. You can't look at them up there and tell me you don't get it."

Arnold gazed slowly up towards the window, in time to see Sid's silhouette leaving the frame. Rhonda's shadowy figure yelled something else, and then her hands drew up to her face; her shoulders were lifting and dropping quickly. She sank beneath the frame as Arnold frowned.

"They're not enough," Helga started quietly, "for each other."

Arnold opened his mouth to question, but she shook her head. Slowly, she gathered the front of her rose-colored gown and rose up from the bench. Looking down at him knowingly, she finished, "Neither of 'em's got enough of what the other one _needs_."

Arnold rose up too, just as slowly, and argued, "Since when are relationships are all about what you _need_?"

Helga shrugged. "They're not. They're about what makes you happy."

"So--"

Helga headed towards the glass doors leading back inside. "Rhonda's _needs_ make her happy, Arnold. Sid's not what she needs."

---

There were barely thirty people still running about the Lloyd mansion when Rhonda stormed out of her bedroom and marched out onto the balcony, taking no note of the groups of teens that formed paths for her as she made her way. Her tear-stained porcelain face gave the clear message that no one was to follow her; that she was to be left alone to breathe in the fresh night air under the few stars that gleamed in the Halloween sky. Still with a few sobs left in her, she huffed and puffed until she collapsed onto the bench that Arnold and Helga had occupied only ten or so minutes before, wishing that everyone still inside would just leave, even though she needed company to feel better. Rhonda hated nothing more than being alone. You get hurt when you're alone.

It seemed like hours she laid there, inhaling the crisp October breeze and waiting for the oncoming tears to dry up. She gradually shed her three or four hundred dollar Snow White costume, stripping down to her white underclothes and thigh-high stockings. The golden heels were the last to come off before she stopped undressing, and she then hugged her legs to her chest, resting her chin upon her knees. More hot tears streamed down her cheeks and she held this position, thinking that hardly anyone had ever seen her like this. They could now, if they cared to pull back the curtain and open the glass sliding door, but no one did. The anger in her built up as she heard their continuous and obnoxious laughter from inside.

Frustrated, Rhonda let out a screech, picked up one of her heels and tossed it at the sliding door. What was the point of making a scene like this if no one paid attention to it?

She stared at the glass for a few brief moments, half-hoping to see the curtain rustling; to hear the handle sliding, but no such noises came. Rhonda squinted, squeezing out more tears and wetting her kneecaps. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands and buried her face in her legs, suddenly and strangely thinking of Curly as she gazed at her own white skin.

The year before, she and him had come out on the balcony, right in the middle of the freezing December weather, wearing only their underclothes. It was the night she got a phone call from her parents, telling her that they were going to California for a week without her, and she had been so upset that she cried. She had stormed out onto the balcony then, just as she did tonight, alone and crying, until Curly came out and sat on that very bench with her. She'd been sitting in that very position, and he copied her. He didn't say anything as she sobbed and complained, just stroked his finger through her hair gently, kissing her with his eyes until finally, Curly untangled himself and lightly, very lightly kissed her knees.

Rhonda blinked and felt more tears roll as she recalled this memory. She couldn't figure out why it was so very sweet, or why it was her favorite of Curly; it was so weird and random, but maybe, thinking back on it now, it was the whole reason.

She gasped. There was a flutter of curtains and a click of the handle, and then the _whoosh_ of the sliding door. The sound of laughter was kicked up a few notches for a brief moment, then muffled again as Curly slid the door closed behind him. Weakly, he smiled at Rhonda and strode over to the bench.

"Well--this looks familiar."

Rhonda sniffled. "Hi, Thaddeus."

"Just because you look like a princess doesn't mean you have to talk to me like you _are_ one," Curly told her, sitting down next to her feet.

"Do I really look like one now?" she murmured, sniffling again as she felt a few more tears escape her eyes.

Unsurprisingly, Curly smiled warmly and patted her knee. "You always look like one to me."

Rhonda coughed out a hollow laugh. "Well looks don't matter much, do they?"

Curly wiggled his eyebrows and shifted in his seat. "Well, coming from you, that statement has more meaning. I might actually believe it now."

Rhonda laughed again, more genuinely this time. She'd missed that. "Well, believe it…I learned the hard way."

"Sid?" Curly asked, suddenly very serious.

Rhonda hugged her knees tighter and nodded. "I'm starting to think…maybe I was wrong. Maybe I didn't like him enough for who he was…it was more about _what_ he was."

"Cool, popular, smooth, talented, good-looking," Curly droned.

"Yeah…and everyone just--emphasized how great we were together, and I believed it, so I kept it because…"

"You made each other look good," Curly finished, practically taking the words right out of her mouth.

Rhonda open and closed her mouth, wondering what she wanted to say and how she could say it, but she didn't have any such luck.

"Curly…"

He hadn't taken his eyes off her, but a light entered them when she said his name. She'd missed that, too.

"I was wrong."

"About what?" he asked. She could scarcely sense the hope in his voice. It was almost--almost obvious.

"Everything," she said honestly, half-smiling at him.

He put a hand to her cheek. "You've got time to be right."

Confused, Rhonda gazed quizzically at him, wondering what to make of that statement, but he didn't elaborate. He just bent his head and lightly, very lightly kissed her knees. He drew his head back up slowly to smile at her, but before she could return it, a sudden silence coming from in the mansion broke the sound of their settling.

---

Isabella didn't know Eddie. Deep within herself, though she _felt_ like she did--but she didn't. Not well.

So why did she feel like that when he strolled into the Lloyd mansion, sporting that extravagant ballroom mask and carrying that elaborate cane? Why did she suddenly become overwhelmed with a warmth; some spark of familiarity? Why did her insides tangle and twist when she saw him smile so widely at Lila, and why did she feel her head spinning when he led her down into the basement?

Because she _did_.

She _did_ know Eddie.

At least, well enough to know that _this_ boy was not him.

"_Robbie_!"

Isabella scampered down into the shadows of the pitch black basement, terrified of the scene she might come to face when she reached the bottom of the staircase. She saw nothing, of course; it was black, but she could still hear, and what heard--she did not like.

"Robbie!" she screeched again, half-hoping that some of the oblivious party guests upstairs could hear her. "_Robbie_!"

There were sighs, moans, grunts; muffled screams and frightened gasps; tapping and slapping; the clawing of nails on the wall. The sound of a two-way struggle; unquenched thirst for power on his part and futile resistance on hers. His pleasure against her fear. The sound of rape.

"_Robbie_!" she repeated, her throat straining. "Robbie, what are you _doing_?!"

A sigh, a whimper, and then a scratching; like someone was sliding down against the wall. She had lost. A grunt and a few heaving breaths. The smacking of lips.

"Come to join the _fun_, Izzy?"

She couldn't tell in the dark how near she was to her brother, but apparently when she waved her to hand to slap him, she was close enough that she didn't miss.

"Oh _please_," Robbie drawled, grasping his sister's wrist. "You're slipping, sis."

"Let me _go_!" Isabella demanded, struggling in her brother's hold. "What did you _do_ to her?"

"What I'm not afraid to do again, if you don't shut your mouth," Robbie groaned huskily, pulling her closer.

"Don't even _dare_," Isabella whispered fiercely, writhing and struggling. "I could beat the living hell out of you, Robert…"

"Not after I break you…"

"You wouldn't even _try_," she challenged him, finally breaking free of his grasp. She shoved him, knocking him against a wall.

"You didn't win this time, sis," he grunted, shuffling around on the floor. "You tell anyone what happened--and you're next."

Isabella scurried over to Lila, who had her face buried in her knees. She wrapped her arms around the crouching, shivering girl, and surprisingly, she didn't quiver in her grasp.

"And you know," Robbie continued fiercely, "I'm not easy to escape at home."

"You're all talk, Robbie," Isabella spat.

"Oh really?" he asked. "Then why haven't you called the police yet?"

Isabella stared fiercely at her twin in the pitch dark, knowing well that he could clearly see the golden glint in her eyes perfectly despite.

"That's what I thought."

Robbie removed his mask and shoved it in a bag, then grabbed an item Isabella couldn't see, and yanked open a window.

"See you at home, beautiful. And remember…Mommy never liked a tattle-tail."

---

"Do you hear something?" Arnold asked Helga, watching her pour herself a glass of fruit cocktail.

"Hear what?"

"Shh," Arnold told a few kids near the refreshments table. "Now do you hear it?"

Helga put her free hand on her hip and droned, "I don't _hear_ anything, Arnoldo."

"It sounds like…" Arnold said softly, looking about himself. The only people he saw were the ones sharing the bare guest room with himself and Helga and the ones chattering in the living room, but the noises weren't coming from either place. "Like…someone struggling."

"Struggling?" Helga repeated skeptically, setting down her drink. "It doesn't look like anyone's _struggling_ from anything in _here_, Football Head."

"No, really, Helga," Arnold pressed, inching closer to her. "Listen--can't you hear it? It sounds like--like someone's muffling a scream or something."

Helga's eyes rocked from left to right, listening intently, but she shook her head. "I think you're going crazy, Arnold, I'm not hearing it."

"I'm not crazy, Helga, I hear it!" Arnold insisted, grabbing her arm and dragging her to the foyer, in between the guest room and the living room. "Here--you can't tell me you can't hear it."

"Maybe if everyone would _shut up_, I could hear," Helga announced loudly, her commanding tone causing immediate silence among the guests.

Arnold looked intently at Helga, still with a firm grasp on her arm, watching her as she listened intently. As more noises were heard, her eyes locked on his in shock as she grabbed his shoulder.

"Where--where's it coming from?" she asked, in a gentler tone of voice.

"I don't know," Arnold said, looking about. "But we're gonna find out, come on--"

"Wait--who else could be here, though?" Helga said, tightening her grip. "Everyone's right here, on this floor!"

"Not Rhonda, or Curly," Arnold told her, grabbing her and dragging her back into the guest room. They pushed past the whispering teens, nearly knocking over the refreshments table as they bustled towards the sliding door, but Rhonda and Curly were emerging from the sliding door.

"Hey--are you guys okay?" Arnold asked, glancing between the two of them.

"We're fine," Rhonda said, wiping her eyes, still in her underclothes. "We were gonna come in here and ask _you_ the same thing! Why is it so quiet in here?"

"We're hearing some noises," Gerald told her loudly, walking up beside Arnold. "We was upstairs playing pool, and then heard Helga yell something, and then we heard it--sounds creepy."

"_Real_ creepy," Stinky added, removing his clown mask and wringing it in his hands. "Ya got some ghosts in this mansion or somethin' Rhonda?"

"Don't be stupid," Rhonda grunted, pushing past her guests and heading towards the stairs, "there's no ghosts in this place--where did you hear it?"

"All around," Stinky told her. "If ya be quiet and listen, you can hear it. Sounds like a dog bein' choked by the collar or somethin', I swear."

Rhonda held up a hand to demand silence, and looked upstairs. The Billiards rooms was deserted, but she headed up there anyway, just to look. Everyone looked upward, listening to Rhonda's footsteps as she searched around the pool table and in her father's bar and came around back down the staircase.

"No one is up there--who's left here?"

"Only about thirty of us or so," Stinky told her. He pointed to himself and Rhonda and the few that surrounded him and said, "Us six, and then the juniors over there, and a couple a seniors over here, and Phoebe, Sheena, Park, Nadine, Eugene, Peapod Kid, Lila, Isabella--"

"Wait," Arnold said, glancing behind himself. "I didn't see Lila in here for a little bit."

"I thought she went outside to see Eddie?" Sheena spoke up, squeaking.

"I didn't see her go," Nadine said, furrowing her brow.

"Eddie couldn't have come in here, though," Helga said, looking cynical. "He just called me from his house phone--said his cell phone got stolen and that he's not gonna make it tonight."

"Then who was that guy that went downstairs with her?" Park asked obliviously, pointing to a door in the back of the living room.

---

Everything looked so different in the light, Lila thought. You could _see_ everything; everything that was potentially dangerous, and everything that was considered to be safe. You couldn't hide, but neither could anyone else. Reality was out in the open, eliminating the nightmares, showing you the truth. There was nothing to be afraid of in the light.

Rhonda had chased nearly everyone out of the house except their tightly-knit circle of friends. The lot of them had clustered into the basement, surrounding Lila closely but giving her enough room to breathe. They all wanted to know what had happened, but not one of them had asked during the twenty minutes they'd been sitting in total silence together.

As she wanted it, it was Lila who spoke first.

"I don't know who he was. I thought I did, of course--I thought it was Eddie, but…Eddie would never treat me like that. I'm certain he wouldn't. He never, ever touches me like that. I know it wasn't him. But that…unfortunately, is all that I _do_ know."

"Izzy," Arnold started; Lila's eyes widened, "did you see who--"

"No," Lila cut him off. She felt Isabella tightened her grasp on her hand. "She didn't. She came down here right as he ran for it."

Isabella kept her eyes focused on the floor. She knew not to say a word.

Several of the friends exchanged glances, and then Stinky said, "Who coulda done somethin' like this?"

"Someone who hates Lila," Nadine suggested, looking around.

"A _guy_ who hates Lila?" Sheena reworded, looking skeptical. "I've never met any boy who hated any girl so much that he'd do _this_…"

"You'd be surprised," Gerald started, crossing his arms.

Phoebe looked incredulous. "Gerald, why would you say something like that?"

"What?" Gerald snapped. "There's crazy people in this city--including at our school!"

"Gerald's right," Nadine agreed. "I'm sure there's guys we don't know about that would do this."

"It _had_ to have been someone at this party, though," Eugene offered, seeming confident about the idea. "Someone who knows Lila--or at least, knows Rhonda."

"What if this was some--_bizarre scheme _to get to Rhonda?" Curly piped up, but Rhonda waved her hands.

"Ridiculous. If someone wanted to rape _me_, they would have made _sure_ they got me--and they wouldn't do it the night I was hosting a _party_, for Heaven's sake."

"It doesn't matter _why_," Arnold said. "It matters who. We have to find this guy and make sure he's put away, so he doesn't do it again."

"Do you remember anything about him, Lila?" Eugene asked calmly, shifting in his spot on the floor. "The way he smelled, his height, his--"

"No, I don't," Lila said, her voice shaking. "Besides--none of it would help very much in identifying the person…"

"But it _could_ narrow it down at least a _little_ bit," Eugene offered, frowning. "For example, if he smelled like cigarettes, we would know to look for a smoker…"

Rhonda groaned and buried her face in her hands. "I just wanna know how this happened in _my home_, right under all of our noses…"

"Well--" Arnold began thoughtfully, "he looked like Eddie, didn't he?"

A few of the kids perked up.

"We just have to find someone who looks like him, right?" Arnold asked the group, looking from person to person. "At least we know he has his hair color--that'll narrow it down some."

"Yeah, you're right, Arnold," Park agreed, pointing his way. "Eddie's a brunette with fair skin, about average height--"

"Relatively thin, not too much muscle," Sheena added.

Lila swallowed.

"Obviously has to be someone with a _license_," Helga tossed in lazily.

"Or a bus pass," Eugene added. "How else could he have gotten here?"

"That too," Arnold agreed, smiling slightly at Helga. "See? It shouldn't be too hard, we--"

"Stop," Lila demanded hoarsely, coming off more irritably than intended. "Please…stop."

Arnold gawked at her, baffled, along with mostly everyone else. Rhonda even lifted her face from her hands to stare at her in confusion.

"Listen…I really appreciate you all wanting to help me--I do, ever so much, but…"

She rose up from her spot on the couch, releasing her hand from Isabella's. Her eyes danced around the room, resting on everyone's faces one at a time before she let out a defeated sigh.

"This is my battle. My own. I can't ask you to fight it for me."

"But Lila," Arnold started gently, "we only want to help y--"

"I know," she returned softly, gazing at him fondly. "I know. I cherish that ever so much. But I can't risk anything happening to any of you."

"Nothing's gonna happen to any of us," Eugene told her confidently. "They can't know who most of us are!"

"They _could_, though," Lila argued softly. "They could."

The friends looked at one another uneasily, uncomfortably; all wanting to agree but unwilling to admit it out loud. They didn't know who it was, but they couldn't deny the possibility that _he_ knew who _they_ were.

And he did.

But they didn't know.

Lila breathed erratically, slipping into her flats and grabbing her coat. "I'm done. It's over…for now. I'll find this guy on my own…"

She looked down at Isabella, who stared helplessly back up at her. If eyes could do the talking for her, they would be apologizing.

But she wasn't the one who needed to.

"And when I do…I'll see to it that he is punished."

"Are you leaving?" Curly asked her, watching her approach the stairs.

"Don't go alone," Arnold told her, and Isabella rose up.

"I'll go too."

Arnold looked sorrowfully at her and said, "Izzy, really, I'd feel better if a guy--"

"I'll take them," Park offered, grinning at Isabella. Eugene got up off the floor, also grinning.

"Both of you?" Rhonda said, glancing to and from the boys.

"We got it," Eugene said, winking and striding up behind Lila. "Don't worry."

The rest of the group looked thankfully at Park and Eugene and watched them ascend the staircase with the girls. As Isabella took her first step up, she looked about the room and bit her lip.

"Before he left…he said, 'you're next.'"

The remaining girls gasped; the boys perked up in their seats, worried.

"So…" Isabella breathed, walking up the stairs, "I think we would do well to be careful."

She disappeared into the dark of the second floor.

---

"Do you think it's true?"

Helga looked quizzically at Arnold, who strode beside her; the cloak of his royal attire flowing behind him, catching the autumn wind.

"What's true?"

"That he might know us."

Helga stared ahead of herself, into the dark of the October night, which was only dotted by streetlights.

"…I think it could be."

She didn't have to look beside herself to know that he was frowning. He was worried, just like the rest of them, but even more so--because he was Arnold.

"Hey," she said light-heartedly, elbowing him, "we got nothing to worry about, right?"

Arnold raised an eyebrow at her, and she continued, "I mean--look at us. The girls, I mean--we're tough, me and Rhonda. We'll be okay."

"Being tough is only more motivation for them to try and break you," Arnold said quietly, stopping on the sidewalk.

"_Try_ is the keyword in there, Football Head," Helga insisted, pulling him by the arm further down the street.

"Helga."

Arnold stopped again, right under the streetlight; his figure illuminated by the dimming yellow color, appearing more like an angel than a chivalrous prince from a fairy tale. The gold streaks in his deep, olive green eyes could be noticed even more than a foot away, where Helga stood. She smiled in mild adoration at him, thinking that angels seemed more charming and beautiful anyway--since they were _real_. Like Arnold.

She walked back towards him, also illuminated by the streetlight now.

"You okay, Arnold?" she asked girlishly, twisting her mouth.

"She was too calm about it," Arnold said slowly, looking off into the dark parts of the streets. "It's almost as if…like it happened to her before."

Helga felt wrinkles in her forehead as she cocked her head off to one side in question.

"I wondered--sitting in the basement," he started, breathing shallowly, "if…could this be what she was running from? Is that why she came back?"

"You mean," Helga began, "it happened wherever she went off to in the summer?"

Arnold nodded, biting on his bottom lip as he did so. "I just…I dunno. I'm probably wrong. I mean…I don't know. The whole thing is just…crazy."

Helga shrugged in agreement, wondering if he was aware that he was inching closer to her body.

"I'm--I'm really scared, Helga," he said childishly, gazing at her under the light helplessly. "I--I don't know what I'll do if he does it again--or if I find out who he is. Or if he does know us…I don't know what I'll do if…"

He stopped, suddenly fixated on his feet, inches away from hers. He breathed more slowly now, fiddling with his fingers and biting on his lip again, as if he were trying with difficulty not to say something.

_But I want you to_, she thought, trying to get him to look at her. _Say it_. _You're thinking it, I know you are, Football Head_. _Say it_.

"I don't know," he murmured, finally meeting her sky-blue eyes. "I'm just…I hope he doesn't know us, because…I don't want him to get you."

A fleeting feeling swept over the blonde girl as she felt an uncontrollable grin grace her mouth.

"You don't have to worry, Arnoldo," she said confidently, losing herself in his gold-streaked eyes. "_No_ one's gonna get Helga G. Pataki."

His features softened; she could tell he was comforted even by just a sentence. "Yeah. You're right."

He weaved his fingers between hers. "Because I won't let anyone."

Helga lifted her eyebrows. "Well good--you are my prince, aren'tcha?_"_

Arnold looked baffled at her as she laughed.

"Oh get real, _Prince Phillip_--do you _really_ think I wouldn't notice?_"_

---

**A/N**: That…was a very long chapter. I hope you all enjoyed it! I know you all know who it was that got Lila--key is, _they don't, _but now they're a couple steps closer to finding out. Lots of relationships breaking and tightening in here--stay siked for more. Update coming soon. My birthday is Saturday, so hopefully I have another update before then. Love yew kidz.


	14. Fourteen

**Beforehand**--Well, it is officially January 10th here in TN, seeing as it's currently 12:09 am. I am now officially nineteen--and yet it feels like I'm turning 100. It can't be normal to feel this old when you haven't yet grown out of your teen years.

As always--thank you all for the reviews and for reading and for favorite-ing either me or my story; those are gifts that keep on giving very graciously.

Hope you all like this chapter, despite it being relatively short--but I think you will be a little more enlightened after reading through it. Enjoy, loves. And--(gives slices of birthday cake) indulge. Cake and cookies and hugs all around!

Now I'm off to get some sleep and prepare for celebration. Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooot.

**DISCLAIMAH**: What's mine is mine, what's not is Craig Bartlett's.

---

**Chapter 14**: Won't, Will, and Wait

"You could have _told me_, ya know, when you started feeling it."

Helga ran her fingers in circles around the top of her drinking glass, fascinating herself with the floating, melting ice cubes that swirled inside the red drink. She decided a few minutes previously that it was more interesting to look at than Curly's pale, vacant expression. He wasn't even focusing his gaze on her to begin with.

"I didn't wanna bring it up."

"Why?" she asked, suddenly looking at him. He remained fixated on a spot on the wall. When he didn't respond, Helga stopped fiddling with the glass and laid her elbows on the table. "Curly--I wouldn't have gotten _mad_, you're my friend--you can tell me this shit without me getting _mad_--"

"That wasn't why I didn't tell you," Curly cut her off, shaking his head.

Before she could implore the reason, he gave it to her. "I wasn't sure how serious it was."

"What does _that_ mean?"

"I was confused about--why I was looking at you that way."

"No offense, Curly, but what's so confusing about it?" Helga inquired, tapping her fingers. "You either like someone or you don't, there's no--"

"No, Helga, you don't get it," Curly told her, finally meeting her face. "I was looking at you and I…"

He squinted, shoving his hands onto his face and rubbing his eyes, leaving Helga baffled. "Curly…"

"I--I wanted you for a while," he started to explain, looking down at the table instead of at her, "because…"

He didn't have to say it. She knew. She saw it coming. He just cared about her too much as a friend to verbally express it. When he finally met her darkening blue eyes, she wet her lips. He didn't have to say it.

"Curly…I have to remind you of the unlikelihood that you'd _ever_ get with me, given _my_ situation--especially when I would already be aware of your reasons--whether you thought I knew about them or not. There are plenty of similarities, as thrilled as I would be to deny it--but I'm _not_ Rhonda. Not even _close_. And you weren't gonna get to her any easier by trying to go through _me_."

"Helga--" he said weakly, apologetically; Helga rolled her eyes. She saw this coming, too. "I don't want you to--"

"Save it, Curly," the blonde told him, reverting back to making circles on the glass. "I understand how you thought about it…"

"It's not that you're not good enough--"

"I _know_!" Helga snapped, dropping her fingers. "I know; _dammit_ Curly, would you stop it already? I'm not _that _low on self-esteem, for Criminey's sake--"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Curly sputtered, waving his hands animatedly. "I just…I just--"

"I know," Helga told him, this time more gently. "I know."

"I thought…it was gonna go away," he started, his voice sounding far away. "I thought after a couple sessions with Bliss, I was gonna be cured. I wanted to be, and I told her that, and she gave me the options. I saw other girls. I had fun. But…"

Helga fixated herself on the ice cubes again.

"I kept seeing Rhonda, in all of them," Curly told her, sounding so sad and desperate that it was really actually very pathetic, but it didn't take away from how badly she felt for him.

"I realized--after the party, out on the balcony," he went on, his eyes glittering like he was telling some romantically tragic story, "that I--I love her! I love her, Helga, and I--I just wanna be with her! She's the only one for me!"

"Then why don't you just _be_ with her?" Helga proposed ridiculously, knowing herself that it wasn't that simple.

"Sid!" Curly boomed, slamming a hand on the table.

"Sid?" Helga repeated, meeting his eyes again. "_Sid_ is all that's stopping you?"

"He's my friend, Helga," Curly stated calmly, the whites of his eyes turning slightly red.

"Didn't stop _him_," Helga said scornfully, raising the glass to take a sip.

"I'm not gonna stoop to that level!" Curly argued. "I won't do what he did to me!"

"Don't act like you care more about his feelings than your own," Helga commanded, setting the glass down and smacking her lips.

"I don't," he told her. "I just don't think it's the right thing to do."

"You're starting to sound like the Football Head," she murmured off-handedly.

He ignored her comment and continued, frustrated, "I'm not sure what _is_ though--and that's what I was hoping you could help me figure out."

"The method is obvious, isn't it?" Helga started.

"What?"

"_Hello_, prove you're the better choice!" she barked, waving a hand in the air. "Prove you care about her!"

"What good is _that _gonna do me?" Curly argued. "Sid cares about her too!"

"Yeah, but Sid doesn't care as much as _you_ do!" Helga made him realize. "Didn't you get the picture after the party? Rhonda knows he doesn't. She's _always_ known that, with every guy she considers dating--she _knows_ none of them care like you do!"

"Then why does she waste her time?" Curly questioned heatedly.

"Because she's _stupid_!" Helga said as if it were obvious. "She's a stupid, naïve, spoiled brat who can't admit she's wrong about _anything_!"

Curly bit his lip to hold back protesting, Helga thought. She sighed and said more calmly, "Curly…she cares about you too. She's just too proud to do anything about it."

"Why?" he asked, sounding much like a child, the way he pouted and furrowed his brow.

"Because no matter how much she likes you, deep down--she still considers you a freak, and before she admits to having feelings for a _freak_, she's gotta learn to let go of her pride."

A freak. As hurtful as it was coming out of Helga's mouth, that's the only term she could use to properly define Curly. A freak, whose greatest ambition in life was to perform in _Cats_ on Broadway. Whose father used a bowl to cut his hair until he was eleven. Whose eccentric behavior unleashed several animals in the zoo at age nine, and later at age twelve landed three kids in juvenile hall, and earned him a two-year trip to his aunt's mental hospital of a home. That's who he was. Wild, uninhibited, and deranged. A poor, twisted little freak. Rhonda could never love him back, him being who he was, unless she could possibly compromise--and they both knew the likeliness of that happening.

"Man, Helga--what do I do?" he asked her in desperation as she pondered.

"Nothing," she told him. "Just sit tight and chill--wait for her to choose to be right. You'll see. Something's gonna happen. Every dork has his day, Curly."

Or so she hoped so.

---

Lila stayed home from school that Monday. She'd had her father call her in sick and spent fifteen minutes convincing Eddie that he needn't drop by after school to check up on her. There was no one she wanted to see at all--except for Isabella Winters.

"Am I late?" she'd asked when Lila answered the door around three that afternoon.

"No, it's fine," Lila told her, taking the girl's jacket and hanging it up. She led her to the second floor, her single plait of flaming red hair swinging on her back as they ascended the staircase.

They entered Lila's bedroom, a small, cozy-looking space with a charming yellow bedspread and green dresser sets. A small television set sat in the corner upon a green desk with a white closet nearby. The carpet was white to match the walls.

"You can have a seat there, if you'd rather not sit on the bed," Lila told her, pointing out the green butterfly chair. Isabella settled into it and exhaled slowly, deeply.

"How are you holding up?"

Lila shrugged. "Better than Sadie did…"

"How is that girl?"

"Fine, now that she's going to group therapy for rape victims."

"Maybe you should try that."

Lila shook her head. "No."

Isabella frowned, shifting in the chair. "Lila…"

"Isabella," she said, crisscrossing her legs on the bed, "I wanted you to come here because…we really need to discuss things about Robbie."

The gold in Isabella's eyes flickered. "Lila…I told you I can't--"

"No, not that," Lila began. "I meant that--I need to tell you some things, and in turn, I would hope that you would tell me some things, too…"

"Things like…what?" Isabella asked.

Lila rose up from her bed and walked to Isabella, kneeling on the carpet in front of her.

"Isabella…if you aren't going to turn him in, I will…"

She looked anywhere but at Lila's face as tears welled up in her eyes.

"I'm willing to make a deal with you," Lila started, feeling a melting in her chest as she watched the girl begin to cry, "if you could hear me out with this…I'm oh too sure you'll agree that it's fair…"

Isabella's throat slithered as she swallowed hard, blinking back tears as she met her eyes.

---

"Damn it…"

Elena Hawkins combed through every single address book and planner she had buried in the several drawers of her office at home, wondering where in the name of all creation she could have had it. She knew she had it; she'd written it down only a couple of years ago and never discarded it, despite her having no intention of contacting the woman. It wasn't because she was afraid to, or because she didn't like her--she just never had anything to talk about with Elizabeth besides her brother, and admittedly that subject was far too depressing for either of them.

But now, now she had plenty reason to call her, she thought to herself as she glanced at the open photo album on her desk. The boy serving as the spitting image of her lost love smiled up at her warmly and charmingly as she rummaged more through the drawers. Finally, she reached the bottom drawer of the desk and dug out several scrap papers, uncovering a miniature planner.

This couldn't be, she thought for a moment, turning it over in her hands, her eyes floating over the painted yellow flowers on the cover.

Slowly and carefully, she flipped through the pages, noticing only now that she'd written so much in such a small notebook. Most of it was in handwriting she couldn't read--how something so trivial changed over the years…

"Numbers, contacts, addresses, come on," she muttered to herself, nearing the end of the book. Much to her delight and surprise, she found a page near the back with the name Elizabeth Fin etched at the top. A cell phone number and an address followed.

Elena grinned.

---

"In bed already?"

Isabella was on her way to the bathroom when she passed her twin's room; his door was unusually wide open, revealing the image of him collapsed on his sheets, wearing only pajama bottoms. He looked uncharacteristically exhausted; the light in his eyes was absent.

"Long day, Izzy."

"Running away from Lila and her friends is hard work, hm?" Isabella asked, stepping into his room. It had been months since she'd been this far inside it. She sat on his bed, realizing that she hadn't done so in over a year.

He cast her a cold look; his brown eyes darkening drastically. "They won't know."

"They will if Lila tells them."

"But you're smart enough not to let that happen, aren't you?" he said to her calmly, sitting up in his bed slowly. "Because you know what will happen if you do…"

"You wouldn't hurt me," Isabella told him, staring at him knowingly through half-lidded eyes.

"Why?" he questioned, deepening his voice.

"Same reason I won't call the cops on you."

A slow, devilishly knowing smile crept upon Robbie's face as he cupped his sister's chin.

She locked her gaze on him, staring at him with intensity that matched his. In a whisper, she smirked and told him, "But that doesn't mean _she_ won't."

His grin vanished, causing his eyes to darken again. His charming, pale face looked more sullen than ever as he whispered back, "What makes you think she will?"

"If it happens again, Robbie," she began, rising up from the bed, "she'll do it. I promise you…"

Isabella straightened her nightgown and turned towards his door, glancing over her shoulder as she finished, "She'll do it."

---

A/N: Well, I'm sure you can figure out the deal Lila and Isabella made with hints from their dialogue--Lila won't report the rape to the cops as long as Isabella makes sure it doesn't happen again. If it does, though, the deal's broken (keep in mind that Lila never said she'd keep her mouth shut if one of her _friends got raped, though). As for why Isabella never reported him--well, that's obvious, isn't it? She loves her twin brother too much, despite the monster he became. Aaw._

I was excited to write about Elena again--she doesn't have much purpose in this part of the fic (and by part, I mean the sophomore year portion of it), so I have to make her appearances sporadic.

In case you're wondering, Elizabeth Fin is Palmer Gordo's sister--the last living relative of Eddie and the twins on their father's side. She was the one Isabella talked about in one of the earlier chapters; the aunt that adopted Robbie for a while.


	15. Fifteen

**Beforehand**--Mary mother of God, I am so sorry. It's been what, two weeks? I'm an awful person. I'm sorry guys.

Okay, first of all, a little housekeeping: I would like to thank everyone who wished me a happy birthday. I hope you would be glad to know that I had a spectacular day--despite the rain and the menstrual cramps, of course, haha, but I never have a truly perfect day. But man--thank you so much for the wishes that you included in your reviews. It means a lot.

Also, to one reviewer in particular, miss Kate--I wish I could reply to your review personally, but it wouldn't let me because you were an "anonymous reviewer." Boo. Anyway though--that was one of the sweetest reviews I've ever received and I wanna thank you so much for keeping up with my little saga. I am so happy to be making people happy, and I love it when they let me know they love my work! It means so much and it inspires me to keep getting better. I am growing and developing as a writer thanks to support like yours. So thank you, Kate, and to everyone else who I have been lucky enough to touch through my work. This Hey Arnold! fandom is a very special one indeed and I'm so glad I can contribute something special to it.

That was a long "beforehand" note. Sorry guys.

Anyway. On to the next, hm? Grab some hot chocolate and get cozy.

**DISCLAIMAH**: What's mine belongs to me; what doesn't belongs to Craig Bartlett.

---

**Chapter 15**: Stuff

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. One and two, three and four, five, six, seven eight. One, two, three and four. One, two, three and four. Step, step, step, turn, step, turn, step, step. Turn and step, turn and step, step, turn, step, step. Step, step, step and turn. Step, step, step and turn.

Repeat sequence. Repeat again. One, two, three and four. Step, step, turn and hold.

End sequence. Smile. Bow.

Elena Hawkins applauded her students, lined up on the floor of the stage, sweating underneath the bright auditorium lights.

"Wonderful, guys," she beamed, her eyes dancing around the group of huffing and puffing dancers. "Now--one more time." Groans erupted from the group. "Just one more, I promise--then that's it for tonight. Go on, places, from the top."

Elena sunk into the middle seat in the first row of the auditorium, swallowing as she observed her dancers dispersing themselves about the stage, all encircled about a small podium in the center. Elena tried her best not to fixate herself with that vacant space; seeing as she hadn't found anyone to fill it quite yet. With only a month before the production of her Christmas Story, she was running out of time. She had to find a singer, and she had to find one immediately.

She'd thought about holding auditions for the small part, even though all she needed was a girl with a pretty voice that would be willing to wrap herself in a red party dress and sing that one holiday chart-topper by Mariah Carey. She'd asked members of the drama club to scope out some takers, but not many girls were very interested, and the ones that were didn't the spark Elena was hoping for. Of course, there were a handful of very pretty, talented girls she could choose from, but she put them all on a mental waiting list, secretly wishing someone with true star quality would come along and surprise her. However, no one did, by that second week of November, and she was beginning to think that maybe she should just give in and settle for the best of what she had access to.

However, it was during rehearsal that Monday evening that her prayers were answered by a petite, charming brunette in cowgirl boots.

---

It was the first Wednesday in years that Rhonda didn't have anyone sleepover; the first time she decided to spend the night alone in her house. Alfred, her family's butler, had asked her ten times in an hour whether or not she was sure that she didn't want even Nadine to stay, but she kept telling him no. She needed to be alone. She needed to think.

"My dear, what could there be for you to think so much about?" he'd asked her, finishing polishing the antiques above the fireplace.

"Just--_stuff_, Alfred. I don't really wanna talk about it," Rhonda murmured, slumped into her father's armchair. She was turning her nail filer over repeatedly between her fingers, staring at nothing in particular.

"Would this _stuff_ have to do anything with Master Stevens?" he asked, barely showing his interest, although the glint in his eye pretty much gave him away.

Rhonda scoffed and rolled her eyes at the butler. "Al, please, why do you always have to assume it's Sid?"

"Because, my dear little mistress," Alfred began knowingly, "it usually does. I've never known of any other boy who got under your skin so much--aside from, perhaps, Mister Gammelthorpe."

Rhonda's throat itched as she swallowed and twisted her mouth.

"Curly has nothing to do with anything, Alfred."

"Really?" he asked, now shamelessly perking up. "Then what was that bit on Halloween, when he'd gone out onto the balcony to comfort you?"

Rhonda bit her lip. "You saw…?"

He smiled very slowly; his laugh lines very defined in the dim lighting of the living room. "It takes a lot of courage to approach a lady who's that angry. Many men won't even chase after their own wives when they behave like you."

Rhonda straightened up in the armchair, wearing a scowl. "What are you trying to say, Alfred?"

Alfred smirked and folded the polishing rag into his apron. "All I mean is this…He may be a rather loony character, Miss Lloyd, _but_, he's definitely loony about _you_. And when it comes to relationships, well…sometimes that's the only trait you need to make it work."

Alfred winked at her, watching as she gazed at him curiously yet pitifully; her eyes watering like inky black pools as they brimmed with tears. The butler cupped her chin and patted her shoulder as he pulled his coat off the rack and headed out the door.

_He's definitely loony about _you.

She thought she heard a splash after feeling her heart drop to the pit of her stomach.

---

She'd been in the bathroom almost an hour now, Eddie realized, glancing over at the grandfather clock. He felt his heart thud with every tick, drumming his fingers along the table in accidental rhythm with his pulse. He had half a mind to run down the hall and bang on the door, to press his ear against it just to make sure she was alright, not talking to herself or crying, but felt glued to his seat in the dining room. She'd promised she would come out when she was ready, but he didn't want to wait anymore, even though he wasn't sure he wanted to know the truth. Lila herself probably wasn't even ready.

He sighed, his head dropping against the table. He'd almost wished he hadn't taken her to Planned Parenthood after school, that he had just dismissed the possibility of her being pregnant, but there was no stopping a stubborn woman, especially not Lila. As unlikely as he thought the idea was, he took her anyway. Something about the way her eyes shone when she was anxious wooed him into doing whatever he could to soothe her.

Eddie didn't know how, but a small chuckle pitched his throat. What was he so worried about, really? How likely was it, really, that she could be pregnant from a rape? Of course, rapists don't use protection, so it was doubtful that her attacker did, but he admitted that he didn't hear of girls getting pregnant from a rape. It wasn't that common of an occurrence. Or was it? No, it couldn't be; he hardly ever heard about things such as this. This couldn't happen, not to Lila. Not his Lila. He heard himself chuckle again as he raised his head off the table. No, there was no way. Not Lila.

"Edward?"

His heart was caught in his throat as he watched his pretty girlfriend come through the doorway, wringing her hands and biting at her bottom lip. The brown color in her eyes swirled like melted chocolate as a couple of tears pooled in them.

"Lila," he uttered, his voice cracking as he stood up. "What--what is it?"

"Eddie," she breathed, airily and dreamily, "Eddie…I'm…"

His heart banged against his ribs so hard, he could have sworn Lila could see it. "Lila--are you?"

Her freckled face contorted as she nodded vigorously, chomping down on her bottom lip to keep from bursting into tears. "I'm sorry, Eddie…"

If words could kill, Eddie would surely have been vaporized; her sentence would have shot through him like a laser from tripods in alien movies, leaving no trace of his body except the dust that would pollute the air. But they couldn't, and he was thankful, because if he'd been reduced to a pile of ashes, he wouldn't be able to scoop her up in his arms and stroke her hair and tell her that everything was going to be all right.

---

The last time Elena hesitated this much to make a phone call, it was the eve of Palmer's death. But this time, she wasn't inviting someone to her place and implying a rekindling of a romance, so there was nothing to fear. Elizabeth was certainly not an individual to be feared, meaning that there was nothing for her to be nervous about, but…she wasn't sure if she was ready to hear an answer to this.

She sucked shallow breaths with each press of the digits and waited anxiously as the ringing could be heard over the other line. It continued for about seven rings, and then a soft, womanly voice passed through Elena's ears.

"Elena?"

"Hi, Liz…"

"Second time in a week, Elena," Elizabeth Gordo said happily. "I knew our last conversation was too short."

"Short because I refrained from bringing up a very…" Elena sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Important subject."

She could almost hear the frown that came over Liz's face. "Elena…"

"Liz…I didn't ask about Jessica…"

Liz inhaled deeply. "Elena…you know he was one for keeping secrets…"

"Some secrets are too important to keep to oneself."

"He has some that even he doesn't know about."

"Liz," Elena began, her voice shaking. "I know…I know there isn't just Eddie…"

Silence on Elizabeth's end.

"Liz…why didn't he tell me what happened before…?"

"He felt it would be better," Liz started in her brother's defense, "if no one knew. Especially not you."

Elena closed her eyes tightly to stop the tears that were pushing their way out. "How many are there, Liz? How many don't I know about?"

"Calm down, Elena," Liz told her comfortingly. "There's only the twins."

"_Twins_?" Elena repeated, opening her eyes. Her vision was foggy and blurry. "A one night stand gave him _twins_?"

"They were mostly Jessica's," Liz said coolly, "since he didn't contribute to caring for them."

The burning, frustrated tears stopped flowing suddenly as Elena started, "He didn't--?"

"He didn't ever know they existed," Liz said somberly, sounding as if she were holding her breath. "He told Jessica after they'd slept together that he wanted nothing else to do with her…she never told him she was pregnant."

Elena felt knots forming at the base of her throat. Not even blinking, she breathed shallowly, and whispered, "Then…how did you know?"

"Jessica's sister Lucy told me about it, years after they were born," she said to her. "We used to work together…She told me that the two of them would be taking care of the kids…and if I should ever want to see them--as their aunt, I could."

"Liz," Elena croaked, "what--what kind of twins are they…?"

"Fraternal," she confirmed. "A pretty girl and boy. I had the pleasure of taking Robbie to live with me and Chuck for a couple of years--after Palmer had passed. But he decided he should go back to Lucy and Isabella, in Hillwood."

"Liz," Elena croaked again, feeling the tears rolling down again. "Oh, Liz…"

"What, honey?" Liz asked, concerned; the warmth in her voice was so intense it could be felt even in the receiver.

Elena sniffled and coughed, unaware of whether to rejoice or completely break down. "I think I may have just cast one of them in my Christmas play…"

---

**A/N**: Alfred is the Lloyd's butler. If you're a Batman fan, you'll know that Alfred is the name of Bruce Wayne's butler, as well.

I'm sorry this is short, but as I think I've written in my profile, I wrote this a first time, and then re-wrote it, making different decisions with how I want this to turn out. It was an odd choice to make Lila pregnant, but I think this will blow over well and be beneficial for the saga.

Speaking of the so-called saga, I am indeed continuing it with junior and senior year. However, I may not start them until sometime in the summer. As for _this _fic, my updates are going to come a lot less often. I hate to do this, but the uploading of the chapters will have to be much more sporadic. School has kicked back in and it's a little intense and time consuming for me, so I may only get to update once every couple of weeks. I hope you can forgive me for that and I hope it won't stop you from keeping up with this story.


	16. Sixteen

**Beforehand**--I effing love you guys. Hope this was quick enough an update for you.

You know what's great? Classes getting canceled for snow and ice two days in a row.

**DISCLAIMAH**: Whatever isn't mine belongs to Craig Bartlett.

---

**Chapter 16**: Unusual Suspect

"I don't want a lot for Christmas…"

_Yeah, neither do I_, sister.

"There is just one thing I need…"

_True_.

"I don't care about the presents--"

_Nope_.

"--underneath the Christmas tree…"

She sighed.

"I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know…"

She glanced across the stage, settling her eyes on his illuminated figure. The blonde boy caught her eye and flashed an excited smile, sending her spirit soaring.

"Make my wish come true; all I want for Christmas…is you."

It happened in a heartbeat; the actors (also serving as dancers) floated from their separate, still groups and melted together, two by two, surrounding the elevated circle in the center of the stage, atop which Isabella Winters pelted out every girl's favorite Christmas song. Turning this way and that while sporting the most contagious and cheerful grin she could have mustered given that it was eight-thirty at night on a Tuesday, Isabella soaked up the spotlight while Helga pranced about the stage in Arnold's arms. Between the twirls and the dips and holding of hands, Helga stepped and turned, moving from downstage back upstage, stealing grins from Arnold as his eyes watched her every move. Of course, he _had_ to do so, given that he was her partner, but he didn't have to do it so _well_.

Isabella's voice seemed to fade as quickly as it rang out; in fact, everything seemed to have been happening so fast that night, but that was probably the eleventh or twelfth time they'd rehearsed the finale and everything blended together in a blur. Elena Hawkins clapped loudly as soon as the music was cut off, a gesture that over the past month had become a signal that they were done rehearsing for the day. Helga heaved a sigh, half-wishing they could run through it just one more time, but the compression in her chest told her that it was about time they stopped.

"Excellent, excellent job, everyone," Elena's voice rang through the auditorium. "Now go home, rest up, and don't bother bringing your dance attire tomorrow or the rest of the week--we're doing script rehearsal. Good news for you, Isabella, you get to rest your voice."

Elena gave the petite brunette a nod and she sighed, exasperated, holding her hands to her head in relief.

"Make sure your rides are here, I don't wanna leave this building at eleven!" Elena called out as she gathered her things and strode up the aisle, probably heading for her classroom.

Helga groaned and marched off to rid herself of her formidable character shoes, the ones currently clacking obnoxiously across the stage as she swished past the other drama club members. She exchanged friendly glances with the teens that happened to meet her gaze as she made her way backstage. She settled herself into one of the prop chairs, close to a large vanity mirror, and removed her shoes. Wincing, she rubbed around her toes, where it ached the most. She huffed, deciding that she was going to wear bunny slippers all weekend to sooth her swollen feet.

Helga stared into the vanity and made a face at her reflection; sweat was glistening on her forehead and a few stray hairs from her ponytail stuck to it. With a grunt, she leaned back in her seat and lifted her shorts slightly to take off her thigh-highs. As she began to unravel the stockings from her legs, Arnold came into sight.

"Arnold?" she gasped, freezing in place.

"Sorry Helga," Arnold muttered, rushing over to sit in a prop chair near her. "Is this--should I just--"

"What _is_ it, Arnoldo?" Helga questioned, arching an eyebrow. She continued to pull the stockings off of her legs, but slyly decided to be slow about it. "What's up with _you_?"

She was delighted when he didn't reply very quickly, watching with a suppressed smirk as he subtly (but notably) eyed her legs with his mouth open to speak. Words weren't coming out, though.

He didn't catch himself zoning out until she cleared her throat, bending over to rest her elbow on her knee, dangling the stockings in her hands. "Well? What's eating you, Hair Boy?"

"Oh--Helga," he said quickly, scratching the top of his head. "I just--uh--I wanted to tell you, I think I might know about…you know."

She cocked her head to the side. "About _what_?"

He didn't speak, just gave her a nod and shifted his eyes.

She sat up straight and eyed him, but then thought. "Wait--you mean--"

"Yeah, about--him."

"Well--what _about_ him, Football Head?"

"I can't say here," Arnold said more quietly, jerking his head towards the other teens coming and going around them.

"Well when, then? Shit, how important is it?"

Arnold rose from his seat and slung his duffle bag over his shoulder. "Listen--just, come with me to my house tomorrow, after school. Okay? We can go to practice together afterward, too."

Helga bit back a smile and replied, nodding, "W-well, sure, I mean, if you really want me to--"

"Yeah," he said, grinning gently. "I do. See you, Helga."

"Later, Arnoldo," she said back, oddly struck more by curiosity than excitement.

---

At Hillwood High, any student of the sophomore class and above with a satisfactory grade point average (2.5 or higher) was given a red tag, which stated their name and grade level. This little ticket allowed them to eat anywhere in and around the high school, as long as they showed it to one of the supervisors in the cafeteria before they left. Isabella clutched hers tightly as she paraded down one of the aisles and let one of the hall monitors examine it, then was permitted outside. She pushed open the doors to the courtyard in search of Lila, who'd asked that morning to meet her there.

Isabella found the redhead sitting by the fountain, fidgeting on the spot in anxiety. Zipping her hooded sweater higher up, she approached the girl apprehensively, wondering what could possibly be so important that it couldn't be discussed indoors.

"Lila?" Isabella said, shivering in the wind. Her chocolate brown hair whipped about her face as she sat down next to the girl. "You wanted to talk to me about something?"

Lila inched closer to the brunette, biting on her bottom lip so hard that Isabella was sure she'd be bleeding soon. Her freckled face was rosy in color, but not from the cold. Tears had washed away what little makeup she'd had on earlier. She sniffled and rubbed her hands together.

"Izzy," she began uneasily, struggling to look her in the face. "Izzy, you have to let me do it."

"W-what?" Isabella asked, panicking, hoping she wasn't referring to her brother, but knew she had to have been. "Why, what--did something happen?"

Lila nodded, clearly choking back tears. She sniffled again, coughing afterward and shivering violently. "Izzy, we have to call the police, we have to report this…"

"Why? What did he do now? Who is it now?" Isabella threw the questions at her, feeling heat rising in her chest despite the cold.

Lila shook her head violently, now crying subtly. "Isabella, I was so scared…"

She didn't say anything, just stared at her, wide-eyed, unknowing what to expect.

Lila licked her lips and brushed the hair out of her face so that it wouldn't stick to her tears. "I got an…ever-so horrible feeling the other day, and I begged Eddie to take me to Planned Parenthood…to get a pregnancy test…"

Oh _shit_. "Oh no--oh no, oh no, oh please--oh no, Lila…Lila--"

Lila's face turned a deeper shade of rose as she gagged on her words, barely audible under the sobs she broke into. "Izzy, I'm--I'm gonna have a baby…I'm having your brother's baby…"

Isabella could think of nothing else to do. She grabbed onto Lila's shoulders, pulling her in for a tight, almost suffocating embrace, as if she had squeezed hard enough, she'd push out the seed that was planted inside of her. The seed her brother planted. Before she knew it, she broke into tears herself as she stroked Lila's straggling hair, wondering why it had to be _her_, of all people, and why of all boys, her brother had done it.

---

Helga rapped on Arnold's front door, shivering under her pea coat and rocking back and forth on her heels. Winter had taken over the city earlier than expected; the temperature had unfortunately dropped about ten degrees in just a day. Teeth chattering, Helga cursed climate changes and global warming as she waited for Arnold to let her in.

"Geez--it's freezing out there!" Arnold exclaimed upon opening the door to let her in, quivering against the gust of wind that flew in.

"No shit, Sherlock," Helga droned, hanging her coat on the rack. "I can't stay long, Rhonda wants the girls at her house early tonight, so cut to the chase."

Arnold nodded and motioned for her to follow upstairs, up to his bedroom. He unlatched the ceiling door, pulled down the ladder and she climbed it behind him, stumbling over one of the steps but regaining composure quickly upon entering the room. Several yearbooks and papers were laid out on his bed and on the floor, and Helga only guessed that he'd been at this for a few days in a row.

"You think you found him?" she asked, perching herself on the edge of his bed.

"Thanks to Fuzzy Slippers," Arnold began, half-smiling and taking a seat next to her. He picked up a small folder and handed it to her. "I think this could be our answer."

Helga searched his face inquisitively, and he nodded his head for her to open it. She flipped the cover and revealed a few color photos of Robbie Fin.

"_What_?" she said, aghast, flipping it shut. "Isabella's twin, are you serious?"

"Fuzzy Slippers ran a scan on his computer," Arnold started to explain, taking the folder from her. "He filed through photos of every guy in the city from the ages thirteen to nineteen, and Robbie's profile matched best."

Helga rolled her eyes and shook her head, snatching the folder back and removing a few pictures from it. Her eyes danced over a few captures of Robbie as she said, "This is too crazy, Football Head…"

"What, you don't think he's capable of--"

"Of course I think he's _capable_, Arnoldo, isn't _every_ guy?" _Except you_, she thought, but figured the look on her face said it for her.

Arnold's gaze fell to the floor as he sighed. "I know--I know it's…listen, Helga…Isabella has told me things about Robbie--things that…"

Helga raised her eyebrows in an urge for him to continue, but he seemed short of breath. "What _things_?"

He looked up at her, suddenly very pale. "Robbie has a bad--bad history, Helga, and from what his sister told me--I think he could have been the one."

"If it was him," Helga started skeptically, "why wouldn't she say anything? Why hasn't she _done_ anything to make him stop?"

"What would you do if it was _your_ brother?" he asked her quietly, his eyes piercing her. "Your _twin_?"

Helga swallowed, feeling goosebumps rising on her arms as he went on, without blinking.

"Do you really think it'd be easy for her to turn her own flesh and blood in to the police?"

"Arnold," she cooed, admiring his passion about family ties, however determined to bash it, "family or not--you can't let someone like that run free."

The green in his irises darkened drastically. "He's all that she has left of her parents, Helga. It's not hard to understand why she hasn't done anything."

"So what do you want to happen, Arnold?" she asked, raising her voice slightly. "For Robbie to have an epiphany and right all his wrongs and apologize to Lila and get a fresh start? It doesn't _work_ like that, bucko!"

Arnold stiffened, looking down at the floor again.

"Look, if you really think it was him," Helga started, rising from her seat, "you gotta have a talk with Isabella--or better, with _Lila_. Because I know there's no way she's so _thick-headed _that she has no idea who her attacker is."

"What do you mean?" he asked, watching her stride to the door.

"No _adoring_ girlfriend mistakes a complete _stranger _for their own boyfriend."

---

This was probably not the reaction she had expected, Helga thought as she doubled over, collapsing against Rhonda's dressers while little Phoebe rolled over on the bed and slammed her face into a pillow to stifle her laughter. The hostess herself had tears streaming continuously down her porcelain skin as she choked and gasped for air after her tremendous giggling fit, clutching a hysterical Nadine's shoulder for composure.

"Oh my _gosh_, I need--I need a drink, oh my gosh--"

"Guys--really, this isn't funny," Isabella mumbled, thoroughly annoyed, but Helga laughed even louder.

"_Please_, Isabella," Rhonda hiccupped, waving her hand. "Of course it wouldn't be, if it were true."

"I'm not kidding, Rhonda!" the girl argued, sliding off the edge of the bed to the floor. "I am so serious right now."

"Really?" Nadine heaved, disbelieving.

"Why should we believe _you_?" Helga questioned, her face turning solemn after she caught her breath.

"Why would I lie about something like this?" she shot back, giving the blonde a glare that she really didn't like.

"It's rather strange," Phoebe began, "seeing as Lila is the embodiment of innocence and would do nothing to tarnish what little good is left of her reputation by sleeping around--"

"She wasn't sleeping around!" Isabella told her. "Her rapist did it to her!"

"What?" Nadine blurted, arching an eyebrow.

"That can happen?" Rhonda inquired innocently, looking helplessly at Phoebe, whose face immediately went stark white.

The tiny girl sat upright in her hostess' bed and raised a hand to her collarbone, plainly considering the matter in her mind. "Well--admittedly, it's not a common occurrence, but it's not relatively impossible or unheard of…"

The girls exchanged nervous glances and looked back at Isabella.

"She showed me the pregnancy test," she told them slowly, color returning to her face. "It's--it's positive, you guys…"

Rhonda became fixated with a spot on her carpet while asking, "Did--did she tell Eddie?"

"Eddie's the one who got the test for her."

"What about her dad?" Nadine inquired, furrowing her brow.

Isabella shook her head. "He can't know…not yet…"

"Well he's _gonna_ find out in a couple months," Helga stated bluntly. "You can't exactly _hide_ being pregnant."

"If she tells him, she's gonna have to tell him about the rape too," Isabella said quietly, as if she were talking to herself instead of to the girls.

"Then why doesn't she just come clean about it, and go to the police?" Nadine suggested, pulling her hair out of its ponytail.

"Even if she did, it wouldn't help catch him," Isabella explained. "She has no idea who he was."

"Can't they like, I don't know, extract DNA from the fetus or something?" Rhonda asked, directing the question more at Phoebe.

"Not from the fetus," Phoebe started, "only from the mother's blood, which wouldn't do any good, because it wouldn't give us anything about the father. Then again, I'm not so sure about matters such as this…"

"I'm not sure he'd believe her if she said she got raped," Nadine said cynically. "She's been with Eddie _how_ long now? He'd probably think she made it up to cover having sex with her boyfriend."

"Mr. Sawyer is very close with his daughter," Phoebe said confidently. "I'm quite sure he'd believe her. Anyway, Lila is not a very sexual individual, and neither is Eddie--"

Helga snorted. "_That's_ debatable. He dated my twenty-seven-year-old sister, in case you forgot."

"Well, not with Lila, anyway," Phoebe reminded. "She said the night of the Halloween party that Eddie 'has never touched her that way.' She probably was referring to more mature acts of the sexual nature."

"But isn't it suspicious that she has no clue who her attacker was, then?" Nadine said pointedly.

"True, it does give her story less credibility," Phoebe admitted, "but why would a girl--especially one like Lila--lie about such a thing as getting raped? It's a seriously traumatizing experience…what would she have to gain from faking it?"

"That's true," Rhonda agreed. "But that doesn't really matter…What does is--what do we do?"

"We track down her rapist," Helga said brazenly, her features sharpening.

"Do you know how long that'll take?" Nadine whined.

"Not _that_ long," Helga grunted, thinking of what Arnold had told her earlier that day. "We've got ways."

"What happens when we _find_ him?" Rhonda asked. "It's been weeks since she's been attacked; it's not like they can get a rape kit to prove anything!"

"I've got some ideas," Helga said slyly, winking at Rhonda.

"Like what?" Isabella asked, her voice shaky.

"Don't worry about it," Helga said darkly. "For now, we just keep our eyes out for Lila--make sure no one steps boundaries with the kid."

The girls nodded in agreement as Isabella piped up, "I'll keep close to her. She needs a good friend."

_You probably do too_, Helga thought as she said, "Good. Well--I guess that covers the serious business for the night."

"Oh, we're not done with serious business yet," Rhonda reminded her, rising up and striding over to her vanity. "I still need to run through this dilemma with Sid."

Groans buzzed through the bedroom as Isabella rose up from the floor and sighed, obviously indicating that she wanted to leave.

"I'm sorry, you guys, for bringing up this news," she said, clearly unsure of herself. "But--I figured you could--ya know, help out or--or something…"

"We'll see what we can do," Phoebe offered kindly while the other three remained passive.

"Alfred will see you out," Rhonda said daintily, pressing a button on the wall to turn on the intercom. "Alfred, Miss Winters will be leaving now. Could you get her coat and lead her to the door, please?"

A "right away, Miss Lloyd" buzzed back and the petite brunette left the bedroom, leaving the four friends to freer discussion.

"I dunno about this you guys," Nadine said right after the door shut.

"What?" Phoebe asked, biting at her index finger.

"I think she's hiding something."

"Like what?" Rhonda asked dumbly, "Lila's pregnant, and she was fortunate enough to be the one Lila trusted with that info. What else could she possibly know?"

"Who her rapist was, _doi_," Helga said harshly, stretching out on the rug.

Rhonda turned on her seat to face the blonde. "Helga. Seriously?"

"What, you don't think she could know?"

"Really, Helga, how would _she_ of all people know?" Rhonda asked skeptically, one hand on her hip and the other clutching a hairbrush.

"You haven't considered the possibilities," Helga said vaguely, now lying flat on her back.

"What possibilities?" Nadine asked.

"Taken a look at her _brother_, lately?"

Rhonda's dark irises lit up as she glanced excitedly between Nadine and Phoebe. "Wait--"

"All right, spill," Nadine demanded, bearing a wicked grin as she hit Helga on the stomach with a pillow. "You know something!"

Smirking, Helga rose up and crawled over to her pink duffle bag, removing the folder she'd taken from Arnold's house earlier that evening. Spreading it in front of her, the girls huddled around it, staring down in surprise at photos of Robbie Fin.

"Where did you get this?" Phoebe questioned fervently, picking up one of the photos and adjusting her glasses.

"Arnold got curious and hit up Fuzzy Slippers," Helga told them proudly. "It makes sense, because--I mean, look at the kid--minus the eyes, he could pass for Gordo's _brother_."

"You're right," Rhonda breathed in fascination, running a finger along the edges of one photo. "He looks _just_ like Eddie…"

"There are indeed several _eerie_ similarities between the two," Phoebe agreed, studying the boy's face. "But can we truly believe that Robbie is capable of such an act?"

"_Arnoldo_ says he has a bad history," Helga told her, "and he heard it from Isabella herself."

Rhonda looked fretfully at Helga and said, "If Isabella knows what her brother's capable of--why doesn't she stop him?"

"It's gotta be hard stopping a serial rapist," Nadine offered dryly. "Even if he _is_ family."

"Perhaps that's the reason why she refrains from taking action," Phoebe added. "She must see turning him in as a sort of betrayal--breaking the sibling bond. It's even more powerful in this case, because they're twins."

"Family or not, it doesn't change the fact that he's committing _crimes_ over here," Helga said heatedly, remembering Arnold's reaction to this earlier. "I don't care if you're my own flesh and blood, if you do shit like this, you gotta pay for it."

"I agree," Nadine stated. "She can't cover him like this, not after the shit he's caused."

"Lila's having his baby," Rhonda breathed, staring coldly at Robbie's picture. "The line has got to be drawn somewhere."

"But how?" Nadine asked, pushing her honey-blonde locks over her shoulder. "How do we catch him? And how do we know it's even _him_ that we're after?"

"There's gotta be a way," Rhonda said thoughtfully, raising her hands to her head. "It's gotta be him…"

"Lila's got to know," Helga said fiercely. "She's gotta know that it's him…"

"How can you be so sure?" Nadine asked.

"I got a gut feeling," Helga lied, unwilling to bring up any mentions of the Football Head's intuitions.

"A gut feeling can't be quite enough for something like this," Phoebe told her, looking up from the photos.

"Then we weasel it outta her."

"That's not going to be easy," Rhonda laughed hollowly.

"She's a rape victim," Nadine began. "A pregnant one! She's not gonna wanna talk about it too much--especially to _us_, we're not exactly tight with her anymore, are we?"

"Then she's gotta admit it to someone who _is_," Helga said plainly.

"What good is _that_ gonna do?" Rhonda asked. "We'll still be in the dark, even if she blabs to Isabella or someone--"

"Or _someone," _Helga interrupted, winking at her.

A light bulb may as well have been visible above her head as her eyes flashed. "Oh…"

_---_

**A/N**: Man--where would we be without Fuzzy Slippers?


	17. Seventeen

**Beforehand**_--_As always, thanks for reading and reviews. You guys are the best. Sorry it took so long to get this up--school is too crazy and I hate it! I hope you all had a happy Valentine's Day.

_LazyChestnut_ just pointed out something so hilarious to me--Lila Sawyer and Robbie Fin_. __Sawyer_ and _Fin_. (Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Fin.) That was _totally_ an accident; I was not trying to reference that at _all_; that is too funny. Oh irony.

**Dis-claym-urr**: What isn't mine belongs to Bartlett.

---

**Chapter 17**: Good Intentions

"This--this is wrong, this is cruel! This is crazy, this…"

Arnold locked his eyes on Helga, who sat in front of him with her limbs crossed, eyebrows arched in devious satisfaction, just waiting for his verbal seal of approval. Despite being appalled at using his benevolence to such an obscure advantage, he had to admit that this plan of deceit was too good _not_ to put into action--especially when there was so much at stake.

"It's crazy enough to _work_," Helga told him, unwinding her arms and resting them on the chair.

"Yeah, but…"

It just didn't seem fair. Granted, _life_ wasn't fair, as his Grandpa always said, but to cheat someone out of a supposed deal was completely messed up on five different levels. Then again, on the other hand, what Lila was going through was equally as messed up, possibly even more so…Still, two wrongs wouldn't make a right. But…aside from robbing a "friend" of yet another family member, they'd be catching a criminal, so it wasn't like it was _all_ bad. Right? It was for the greater good…

"I don't know Helga," he droned, twiddling his thumbs. "Suppose--suppose your guess is fact. What if you're right? Then wouldn't what we're doing be like--double-crossing Isabella?"

"We won't know until you talk to Lila."

"There's only one plausible reason why Lila hasn't reported this…what if you're right?"

"We'll deal with that _after_ you talk to her."

"What if she doesn't--"

"She'll _tell_ you, Arnoldo!" Helga snapped impatiently, nearly pouncing from her seat. "She'll tell you, I know it, she trusts you more than she trusts her_self_! Why do you think she was so gung-ho about being friends with you again? You're the only one who's never screwed her over!"

Arnold felt as if his face were melting off, it being so heated. As he stared at Helga, he realized he in no way could disagree. He wanted to find some way to get out of it, but he couldn't. He was locked in place. Bottom line, if he didn't step in, Lila would never get out of this mess. And it would give Robbie Fin leeway to try and do the same to other girls. If he didn't do this, no one would be very safe. His eyelids felt heavy as he blinked at Helga and wet his lips.

_She_ wouldn't be very safe.

"I'll talk to her on Thanksgiving."

---

It was that heavy, ropey rain; the kind that weighed down your jacket and slipped over your skin like oil, like you were being drenched in slime instead of water. The ridiculous sort of downpour that you never wanted to be caught in, but always were whenever something bad happened. It served as the cherry on top of a fantastically somber day. Rhonda cursed the dense droplets sinking into her coat as she waited for Winston to pull up in the limo.

She sniffled and stretched the cuff of her pullover farther over her hands; allowing the tears she choked back at Sid's to flow freely. She couldn't afford to have shown weakness in front of him; that wasn't what she was. Or rather, what she wanted to be. She wanted power, perfection, and complete control, and she was losing it as her relationship with Sid dwindled and washed down the sewer with the rain. Either get rid of him, or get rid of her pride. Being Rhonda, she of course chose the former. A boyfriend was a small price to pay for her dignity, so she was more than willing to give it up. She liked Sid, a lot--but he just wasn't cutting it. The image wasn't enough. She sighed as she glanced at her cell phone to check the time. Winston pulled up in front of the sidewalk as she stuffed it back into her pocket. _No_, she thought as she climbed into the limo, _the image alone simply wasn't satisfactory_. It would be difficult to find the whole package. Too bad she couldn't see that the whole package had been sitting at her doorstep for five years.

---

"It was ever so sweet of you to have invited me over for dinner, Arnold," Lila cooed as she hung up her jacket in the foyer. "Especially on a holiday!"

"I figured you'd want good company, with your dad on business and Eddie out of town," Arnold told her, feeling a sugary taste in his mouth as he spoke. "No one should have dinner alone on Thanksgiving."

"_Hail the umpire_!" Gertie paraded through the hallway and into the kitchen waving an American flag frantically in the air as her husband murmured something about the grill needing repair and followed her.

"Even if, ya know, no one is sure _which_ holiday it is in their house," Arnold sighed, rubbing his temples.

"I'm certain that it's okay, Arnold," Lila said brightly, laying a hand on his arm. He twitched slightly. "Your family is a charming bunch, I enjoy visiting here!"

He smiled weakly. "I'm glad for that."

Ernie and Oskar passed them in the hallway, arguing about a George Washington wig and Pilgrim hats as Arnold suggested she follow him upstairs. It would be a while, he mused, until dinner would be ready, given that the grill had been malfunctioning, so it gave him a perfect opportunity.

His stomach twisted into knots as he led her into his bedroom; memories of the hours they'd spent together in there had stirred up feelings of nausea, but he bottled it. He couldn't afford to lose face right now; not when there was a goal to accomplish.

"So," he started uneasily, hoping she didn't detect his anxiety, "how have you been with the--you know…"

"Oh I've been okay," she said, her face paling somewhat. "Eddie took me to his doctor a couple of days ago, and I'm okay…"

One of his knots came undone as he inhaled with ease. "That's--that's good…" _Come on_, he told himself, feeling his smile turning down, _you can't let it off that simply_, _you gotta make her say it_…

"Did he--say that you--changed at all, physically, like, nothing happened to your--your--"

"Oh no, nothing bad happened to anything--inside of me," Lila said after visibly swallowing hard. "I was in pain, when it happened, but--nothing was torn or hurt, and I'm in relatively good condition. My organs haven't been harmed, thankfully."

_Here_, _come on_, _that was leeway right there_. "Your--organs are okay?" he asked, pretending to be completely oblivious, although he felt creepy doing so. "So that means you're okay to--have kids one day after all?"

She looked confused for one moment, and before that look could contort into suspicion, he added, "Because--I've heard of--read about women who got hurt so bad that they weren't able to have kids, ever…"

_Great_, _smooth_, he thought as he rolled his eyes inwardly.

"Oh no," Lila told him, seeming more relaxed after his explanation of curiosity. "I'm perfectly okay to have kids…which is, you know, certainly a relief…Why?"

"Oh, because--I--uh--I…" _Damn_, _losing it_, _crap_, _crap_…

"Arnold," Lila began, rather nasally, a sign of annoyance, "is there something--"

"Like what?" he finished for her, too quickly. He could have slammed his head into the desk. This was not going smoothly.

"Arnold," she said sternly, "did someone tell you something?"

"Tell _me_ something?" he asked, pointing to himself. His voice was cracking. Dammit. That gave it away, right there.

"Arnold, I'm getting the feeling that someone told you something, and you thinking it's true, decided to bring me here and talk to me about it," she droned, narrowing her eyes.

"Lila," he started, panic rising in his chest, "I--I'm sorry, I just--I'm concerned, about your safety--I heard a couple different things, and I just--"

"What exactly did you _hear_, Arnold?" she inquired, sitting very straight on the couch.

"I…" Why did this have to be so hard? Why did that word have to strain his vocal chords, even when he just thought about saying it? "Lila, I have--really good reason to believe that you're…you…"

"I don't know who told you, Arnold," she began fiercely, flushing a brilliant shade of magenta, "but I would have hoped that you of all people wouldn't believe rumors."

"Lila, I--" he tried, but she was already heading for the door.

"No, Arnold, really, this was a bad idea," she snapped, contorting her face in frustration. "I'm just going to go. I'll talk to you when you're done being ridiculous."

_Aw_, _no_, _please_! "But--Lila, please, just--"

"Happy Thanksgiving, Arnold."

She slammed his door behind her and he stood frozen, listening to her footsteps thundering downward. Poking his head out of his window, he watched her wrap her scarf around her neck and walk herself home.

---

Sid was such a girl, Gerald thought to himself, sitting beside his heartbroken friend. He certainly cried like one; he had exactly the sort of whiny, blubbery sob that Timberly had, and it was getting on his last nerve. If he didn't feel so bad for him, he probably would have punched him out of annoyance. Sighing, he swung a sympathetic arm around the boy's shoulder, handing him a napkin from the table they'd been sitting at for the past hour or so.

"I just--I--I--she--was--m-my--first--best--she--girl--friend!" were the words Gerald managed to comprehend through all of his cries. Snot and tears dripped down his reddened face as the boy rubbed his white knuckles together in anxiety. He felt terrible thinking that the sight before him was pathetic, but anyone who cried like this over Rhonda Lloyd definitely was. He glanced over at Eugene, sitting across from him, wearing a frown so heart-wrenching that it had to have been fake. The redheaded boy twisted his mouth and poked at his milkshake with the straw, obviously completely lost. Stinky, beside him, looked just as helpless as he sat with his burger in front of him, hesitating to eat, as if it were a terrible thing to chow down on your lunch while your best friend was having a breakdown. Gerald sighed. Guys just weren't cut out for this sort of thing.

"It's gonna be all right, then, Sid," Stinky said encouragingly, for what must have been the twelfth time in the past twenty minutes.

"Yeah, she's not the only girl in the world," Eugene added, turning up his mouth into a smile. "Hell, there's guys out there too--"

"Eugene!" Gerald scolded as he patted Sid's shoulder. He only sobbed harder.

"No really," Eugene continued eagerly, "Peter knows plenty of guys that would definitely be interest--"

"Eugene, stop," Gerald pressed. "Now is definitely not the time!"

"Ya gotta _mourn_ the loss before ya move on," Stinky said sagely, eyeballing his burger. "It's okay, Sid. Let it _all_ out."

The dark-haired boy sobbed even more for what seemed like another hour while his friends stared on, Eugene continuing to poke at his milkshake and Stinky staring at his burger. Gerald shook his head repeatedly as Sid would pause to catch his breath, then cry again, then pause, then cry very hard. At the last pause, Gerald removed his arm and patted the boy's back instead. "Finished, there, buddy?" he asked hopefully.

"Y-yeah, I think--I'm d-done," he squawked, grabbing more napkins and blowing his nose into them.

"Does that mean I can eat mah burger now?" Stinky asked nasally, looking at Gerald.

"No one was stopping you from eating it before," Gerald answered, arching an eyebrow.

"Feel better?" Eugene asked brightly, smiling with his straw between his teeth.

"I--I think so, y-yeah," Sid whimpered, sniffling and coughing afterward. "Thanks for--for being here, guys."

"No problem, Sid," Gerald said quietly.

"That's what friends are for," Stinky told him with a mouth full.

"You need someone to walk home with you?" Eugene asked.

Sid shook his head as he stood up and straightened his jacket. "Nah, no, I'm okay. I'm just gonna--walk home and listen to some Bright Eyes and watch _The Wall_…"

"That movie always makes ya feel better," Stinky recalled.

"Only when I'm high," Sid said with a smirk. He pulled out his IPod and stuck in his earphones and left the arcade, shuffling his feet as he walked.

Gerald sipped his soda and took a bite of the burger he'd barely touched as Stinky asked, "Ya think he's gonna be all right?"

"Maybe I should ask Peter about his friend that lives around here," Eugene mused, downing the last of his milkshake.

"Just leave him be," Gerald told the redhead. "He'll be fine. It can't be that hard to get over someone like Rhonda."

"Tell that to Curly," Eugene grunted.

"Curly's--_different_," Gerald said pointedly. "Sid's got his head on straight…for the most part. He'll find someone better for him for sure."

"We need to find him a gal that likes vidya games and hippie movies," Stinky said, gazing out the door Sid had left through.

"And listens to bands like The Weakerthans and Joy Division," Eugene added.

Gerald sighed. "Can't be hard to find a girl like that."

"How long do you think it'll take him to be okay?" Eugene asked, more directed at Gerald than Stinky.

"Why you asking _me_?" he threw back, knowing what he was probably getting at.

Eugene flushed slightly. "I just--I mean--"

"It'll take him a lot less longer than _me_, that's for sure," Gerald snapped, rising up in the booth and stuffing his wallet into his back pocket. "I'll catch you guys later."

They both frowned as they watched him go; he felt their eyes on him as he zipped up his jacket and stomped out. He no longer felt any sympathy for Sid, no matter how much he probably deserved it. There was no way Sid could have been more upset than he had been. He buttoned his jacket around his neck when the wind hit his face, but he hardly felt it. It was nowhere near as cold out there as he felt inside.

---

He hadn't spoken to Lila all that weekend. He'd called five times, gone up to her house twice, and even knocked on Eddie Gordo's door once Saturday afternoon, but still, nothing. He had talked to Eddie, though, which was considerably awkward at first, but had unexpectedly agreed to let her know that he needed to resolve things with her. He had been right about her being pregnant; Eddie had confirmed it. Eddie had even been the one to get her a test. But she was right in that he shouldn't have asked her about it. Much as he hated to admit it, he couldn't help her if she didn't want to be helped--or rather, she did, but wasn't quite ready to admit it. He guessed, as he trekked home from the Gordo's residence, that if he were a teenage girl with child, he wouldn't be very quick to admit it, either, not even to his most trusted companions.

He sighed in frustration when his head hit his bed. How was he going to fix this? He couldn't help Lila if she didn't trust him anymore--which made him realize that there probably wasn't much he _could_ do to help her anyway, even if she wound up wanting him to. He could, however, find a way to prove that it _was_ Robbie who raped and impregnated her, and ultimately assist in putting him behind bars. However, sadly, he couldn't do that without the help of his own twin sister. If Isabella wasn't going to comply, no one was going to catch him.

It was in the midst of these thoughts that his cell phone rang; ironically, it was Isabella. He snatched up his phone and flipped it open.

"Izzy?"

"Arnold," she breathed. "Listen, I need to talk to you…"

"It's about Lila, isn't it?" he asked somberly, running a hand over his face.

"Who told you she's pregnant?" she asked shakily, seeming both angry and upset.

"Who told _you?" _he twisted the question, determined to weasel it out of her.

She sighed dejectedly. "Arnold…"

"Isabella," he started, "just…tell me, she confided in you, didn't she?"

"She showed me the test," she admitted. "I told Rhonda and them…"

"Helga's the one who told me," he returned. "But, Izzy…why did you tell them?"

There was a long pause. Arnold thought of saying something to hurry her response, but decided against it. He didn't want to push her, not when he could possibly be getting the truth, so he waited patiently. Several minutes passed before Isabella whimpered, a blowing noise coming through the receiver as she breathed hard into it. "I thought that maybe…maybe_ they'd_ be able to do it…"

"Do what?" he asked calmly, anticipating her answer so much that it made his heart race.

"The right thing," she finished confidently, heaving.

"Izzy," he said slowly, though anxiously, "what do you mean…?"

Sniffles and squeaks erupted on the other end; he guessed that she'd begun to cry gently. Frowning inwardly, he shushed her like a father would his daughter. He even stroked the phone with his other hand. "Izzy…it's okay…"

"I know that--that they--you--you guys can do it," she said, only partly calmed by his voice. "You guys can--g-get him, b-because…because I _can't_, I just can't…"

He sat up in his bed, forgetting to breathe as Helga's guess turned out to be right.

---

A/N: Bright Eyes, The Weakerthans, and Joy Division are really great bands that you should definitely listen to sometime. Granted, it's relatively depressing music, but good nonetheless.

When Sid mentions The Wall, it's Pink Floyd the Wall. I've seen it twice, but I've never understood it. I think my pothead friends were right when they told me you have to be trippin' on acid or super high to get what it means.

I originally intended for Lila to be the one to turn around and tell Arnold that it was Robbie, but I figured it would be better for Isabella to do it. Instead of Lila sort-of betraying Izzy and ratting out her brother to her friends, it's the guilty twin hoping to reconcile all the years of keeping her criminal brother safe. It makes more sense this way too, since Isabella told Rhonda and the girls; I couldn't have that action without a good intention. That was Izzy's cry for help.


	18. Eighteen

Okay, so I haven't been able to log in for the past few days. Weird. I don't know when this will finally get on, but I'm siked for when it does! Sorry again for such a long wait on the update. This log-in failure will probably prolong it, too =/ Love you guyz. Enjoy.

Dis-claym-urr: What's mine is mine; what's not is Mr. Bartlett's.

---

Chapter 18: Just A Little Buzzed

He decided not to go. He was invited, unsurprisingly (most likely because Rhonda didn't want to seem_too_ much like the bad guy), but he'd made up his mind not to attend the moment he received her e-mail. He'd rather not deal with the undesirable scenario of party guest after party guest bombarding him with questions about the break-up, so he told Stinky to pass along the message that he wasn't going to show up. He couldn't imagine she'd care very much anyway. Besides, every one of Rhonda's parties were the same--spiked punch, drunk upperclassmen, the breaking of something expensive in the living room, random couples making out in closets, and a few rousing rounds of Twister until Alfred would announce the festivities over. Not like he'd be missing anything, except _maybe_ a blow-up from Rhonda or one of the girls, but he was willing to sacrifice a show for more pot and cigarettes. At least now, he figured, as he blew smoke out his window, he could spend his money on things he wouldn't later regret.

---

Lila's eyes followed Eddie's form as he paced about the room in anxiety. It was funny, almost, that he could get so heated so easily, just from a simple argument. Actually, it wasn't much of an argument so much as it was her finally standing up for what she wanted. She'd made a decision and Eddie tried to step in and say that it was his, too. Well, she snorted inwardly, it wasn't. And when she tried to make that point, it only made him agitated.

"You can't just--_decide_ you're gonna keep it, I have a say too!"

"Eddie, you _aren't_ the father," she stated, lowering her eyelids. "The _real _father doesn't have a say, either. It's _my_ baby. It's my _body_, and I'm ever so certain that I'll make whatever choice I want."

"Lila--you're not old enough to do this," he claimed. "You can't take care of a _child_, you have to finish school and pursue your career and--"

"Eddie, I don't plan to--"

"--you haven't even told _your _father, and the baby's father is--"

"Eddie, stop, you don't understand--"

"No!" he burst, having stopped pacing. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he pointed a shaking finger at her. "No, Lila…_you_ don't understand. This--this will ruin your future!" he declared for what was probably the seventh time in that hour.

"Eddie, I told you," she said sternly, "I'm not getting an abortion."

"Lila," he started as calmly as he could, "you…you _have_ to, you're too young, too--"

"I'm healthy enough to carry this baby; you heard Dr. Leland," she told him. "I'm going to go through with the pregnancy."

"But you _can't_!" Eddie protested. "You just can't, Lila, you can't be a mother--"

"Who says I'm going to be a mother?" she asked plainly, crossing her arms.

He merely stared, as if he didn't understand the question. Truthfully, he didn't. At all. Because he'd been too stubborn to hear her out in the first place. "Wh--what? What do you mean? You say you're gonna have the kid, but how are you not gonna be a--"

"I _tried_ to tell you before, but you kept jumping down my throat," she said. "I plan on adoption."

Eddie blinked several times before he took a seat beside her on the couch. He fiddled with his hands and then wrung them together, eyeing her curiously. "You…you want to give it up for adoption?"

"I was online last night, looking around," she started to explain, playing with her plait of red hair, "and I find a website for hopeful parents who haven't been able to get pregnant. A lot of them were in the area, and…I figured that I could help someone out, by giving them my baby. I just think that it'd be ever so sweet, don't you?"

His features softened as he looked at her admirably. He swung an arm about her shoulders and kissed her cheek and she was satisfied.

"I think maybe…all this was a sign," she mused, looking ahead of herself. She didn't sound sad, not at all. Not so sad as much as hopeful, or even grateful. "Maybe this was supposed to happen to me."

He gazed at her quizzically, extending his hand. She grasped it instantly and kissed his knuckles while he remained slightly perplexed. She smiled and rubbed her lower stomach with her other hand. He'd understand in time.

---

Lila didn't show up to the party, as expected. After word got out that she was _with child _and all (thanks to the birthday girl herself), Arnold figured that she wished to stray from every social event possible to avoid awkward stares. Well, not just the stares, he furthered, sipping his drink. It was the rumors too; even though Rhonda had the decency to explain to people that it was the result of her attack, not everyone was going to take it as such. The slander and name-calling had blossomed over just a week, and thanks to the rumor mill, even Arnold himself was presumed to be the father. He wrinkled his nose at the thought as he scanned the thinning crowd in Rhonda's living room. Of all the things to accuse him of--_raping_ a girl? The _nerve_ of some people. The absolute _nerve_. That was what disgusted him most about teenagers, about his own _kind_--they'd say anything to get a rise out of everyone else. He felt someone come up to his side as he crushed his plastic cup in his hands.

"Hey Football Head, how's chops?"

He let out a strong breath. "Hey Helga." He regretted saying it so nastily as soon as the words stopped. She snorted next to him and it reminded him of how uncharacteristically cold he'd been towards everyone lately--especially her.

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Helga."

"What for?" she asked. She poured herself some punch and leaned back against the table.

"For being so…vicious lately," he said, figuring that adjective described it best. "It's just--the stress of play practice, and school, and the whole thing with Lila--"

"Yeah--I understand," she said calmly, her voice absent of its usual venom.

"I'm just--worried, I guess," he said, staring ahead. "I mean…she's really gonna have a baby, you know?"

"I know." Helga nodded somberly after smacking her lips.

"I just…I don't know how to help," he said hopelessly, glancing sideways at the blonde.

She shrugged. "You don't know how to accept things like this, _Arnoldo_."

"Like what?"

"Like--there's gonna be stuff that you just _can't_ do anything about," she told him plainly, her words stabbing at him like tiny knives.

Arnold sighed and poured himself more punch. He secretly hoped someone spiked it enough so that he could possibly get drunk after a couple more glasses.

"The only thing anyone can possibly do," she continued, droning, "is prove that it was Robbie. _You_ know it was him, _I_ know it was him, Isabella knows--even _Li_la knows. We just gotta figure out some crazy way to catch him."

"It's not gonna be easy," he said.

"_Doi_, of course it's not," she agreed. "But if your outrageous _hero_ complex won't let you rest until you help _some_how, then we gotta figure something out."

He perked up at her choice of words. "_We_?"

She smirked and set her cup down and straightened her purple shirt. As she slowly strode away from the table, she said, "I don't want you getting your hands _too_ dirty."

---

Phoebe wasn't used to walking home alone. She usually never did, even after she and Gerald broke up; somebody always would take to her to her house. Sometimes it was Eugene, sometimes it was Peapod Kid, and most of the time, it was Iggy; she'd been on a few dates with him in the past two weeks or so, and he would always refuse to let her walk anywhere by herself. But that night, he left Rhonda's party early (something in the finger sandwiches made him throw up), and mostly everyone else was either too drunk or too occupied to go with her, so she left alone.

She pulled her gloves on as she turned the corner, watching the freshly falling snowflakes glitter under the streetlights. She shivered but smiled; first snow of the season. And on Rhonda's birthday, too. Such a shame was probably too hammered to notice the beautiful weather outside. Then again, maybe she was so wasted that she was directing everyone's attention to the window and admiring it obnoxiously. Phoebe giggled as she imagined Rhonda prancing about her balcony barefoot with a Corona in her clutch.

Phoebe reached the street sign for Madison as she heard pounding footsteps coming from up the sidewalk. She whirled around, watching a figure galloping towards her, and for some reason she wasn't afraid, just bewildered. She knew that silhouette very well. Inwardly, she smiled as Gerald approached her at the crosswalk.

"Hey--Hey Pheebs," he drawled, resting his hands on his knees. His eyes were bloodshot as he peered up at her.

"Hi Gerald," she squeaked, shoving her hands in her coat pockets. "What are you doing out here, and without a coat? Didn't you notice it's snowing?"

"Yeah, yeah I know, isn't it cool?" he said jollily, huffing and puffing.

"Gerald," she started, giggling, "are you drunk?"

"Drunk?" he repeated stupidly, blinking his widened eyes. "Dr--me? Meeeee? Drunk? Nah, nah Pheebs, nah…I'm totally not drunk, just--just a lil' buzzed, lil' buzzed, tha's all."

She arched an eyebrow and giggled some more. "What are you out here for, then?"

"I just--" he started, running a hand over his head and rolling his eyes back, "I--I just saw you leave, and you didn't have nobody with you, and I was like…she can't be going home alone, not at night--not at _night_, man! And I just…I said--I said I'm gonna take her home, make sure you get home all right…"

Something hot melted in the pit of Phoebe's chest as she smiled gratefully at him. He swayed on the spot like a tree in a great wind; being so buzzed he lost his coordination, but he was sober enough to come after her. To remember her cared about her.

He continued, inching closer and reaching for her hand, "Can't be going home alone, not night, not after Lila--after Lila got hurt, man, you can't be alone…Someone gonna getchu if you all alone…can't let that happen, man…"

She grasped his hand, his bare hand, feeling how icy it was even through her glove. She pulled him in her arms. "Thank you, Gerald."

She didn't have to be looking at his face to know he was smiling. He rubbed her back and stroked her hair and drawled lazily, "Welcome, Pheebs…Love you, Pheebs…"

A tear escaped the corner of her eye as she whispered back, still hugging him tight, "Love you too, Gerald."

---

Rhonda giggled as she stepped over the bodies; the knocked out, dead-weight bodies of the drunken party guests. Several of them just simply passed out on the living room floor. She'd been only half-awake on the couch, next to a now-sleeping Nadine, but now wanted, for whatever reason, to go out on the balcony and see the snow that Harold was making such a fuss about. She crawled on all fours across the living room; maneuvering her way about as if she had to avoid resting on cut glass. She clearly didn't want to stir anybody, but she was probably far too wasted to be too careful. She accidentally stepped on Katrinka (who thankfully didn't notice in that slumber) when someone came through the doorway.

"Need some help?"

Her dark eyes were drawn upward by the familiar voice. She met Curly, who stared down at her fondly with his hands on his hips.

"_Hey_, Thad-yus!" she chortled, raising an arm towards him. It was like she was stuck in some quicksand and he was her only hope of being pulled out. He sighed and moved to rescue her.

Curly hopped over a few arms and legs to get to her spot on the floor. He scooped her up in his arms and carefully pranced over the sleeping teens, carrying her out up the stairs. She fidgeted in his hold.

"But--_Thaddy_, I wanna go out_side_!" she whined, kicking her legs.

He tightened his grasp on her. "It's not safe for you to be outside now, Rhonda."

"But--but I wanna play in the _snow_, Thaddy!" she whined, grinning up at him childishly. "I wanna make a _snowman_--a big, big, _big_ snowman! Ha_ha_!"

He shook his head and chuckled as she started laughing maniacally. He reached the top of the stairs and moved down the hall, past Alfred, who was sweeping up shards of a broken vase. He gave Curly a small smile as he glanced at the girl in his arms.

When Curly arrived at her bedroom, he swept her through the door and set her down gently on her bed. He looked about himself as she started babbling about some nonsense, wondering where he could find pajamas for her. She certainly couldn't sleep comfortably in that party dress.

"Is this my princess room, Thaddy?" she asked dumbly, looking bewildered. She sat on her knees in the middle of the bed, gathering the comforters in her arms.

"Yeah, it's your bedroom, Rhonda," he told her patiently, thumbing through a few drawers in her dresser. He fished out a black tank top and red sweatpants, both from Victoria's Secret. As if she'd wear anything else. "You sleep here every night."

"_Every_ night?" she repeated breathlessly. "Wow, I am _so_ lucky!"

Curly grinned to himself as he strode over to her bed, her pajamas in hand. "Got some sleepy clothes for you--here, put them on."

She held the top and pants in her arms and gazed at them stupidly. "I can't put them _on_."

"Why not?" he asked worriedly, sitting on the bed.

"I can't take my dress _off_," she answered, smiling widely.

Curly felt the color rising in his face and hoped she was too drunk to notice. "Uh--yeah you can, Rhonda, just--pull it over your head, or--"

"Like this?" she asked, standing on the bed. She seized the hem of her skirts and pulled it upwards, revealing the lacey garments underneath. Curly gulped as she worked it further upward, but it got stuck somewhere about her shoulders.

"Ugh--Thaddy--I can't--get it--"

He stood up on the bed as well and tried as carefully as he could to hoist the dress off of her; apparently some zipper in the back was stuck, so he turned her around and undid it. When it opened more, he pulled the dress over her head slowly and tossed it to the floor, then eased her downward back onto the bed.

She sighed thankfully, gazing at him with cloudy eyes. "Thanks, Thad-yus."

He breathed shallowly as he muttered words of welcome, wondering whether or not he should just bolt out the door or help her into her pajamas or just sit there and wait for her to tell him to do something.

"Do--do you need help putting--that on?" he muttered, gesturing to the outfit between them.

"Oh--oh _no_, I got it, I _got_ this, I got it _Thad-yus_," she insisted, grabbing the tank top and pulling it over her chest. It was lopsided, revealing the top of her polka-dotted bra. Proud of herself, she grinned and grabbed the sweatpants and pulled them lazily over her slender legs, eyeing Curly slightly seductively as she did so. He had to keep reminding himself that she was wasted and had no idea what she was doing, but that longing gaze was quite convincing.

"See? I did it--all. By. Myself," she said, jabbing a finger at his chest at every word.

He gulped again. "Good, very good Rhonda, uh--I think I should go now--"

"Go?" she said, raising her eyebrows. "You can't _go_--go where? Where you gonna go?"

"Uh, home," he answered, getting up from the bed.

"Home?" she repeated. "_Home_--no, no, you can't go _home_, the party's not over yet!"

"Rhonda," he started, "it's past midnight."

She giggled crazily and seized his arm, pulling him back onto the bed. "Midnight _shmidnight_, Thaddy. It's not time to go home."

But it was, it really was, he thought as he stared helplessly at her. He really _did _have to go home, before he did something stupid, _incredibly_ stupid, like staying the night there, especially--if she was drunk enough to suggest it--her bedroom. No, as much as he wanted to, he just couldn't. His better judgment wouldn't allow it.

"Just stay _here_, Thaddy, you're--you're too drunk to make it home!" she told him, hitting his arm lightly.

"But, Rhonda, I'm not really--"

"Thaddy," she repeated. "_Thaddy_…you know, Thaddy, that kinda sounds like Daddy, haha!"

He bit his lip as she started hitting him playfully. "Rhonda, really, I should--"

"Where's my Daddy, Thad-yus?" she asked him suddenly, her dopey, drunken grin fading. "You know where he is? Do you?"

There was a tugging at his heart as he shook his head and adjusted his glasses. "He's out of town this weekend, Rhonda, don't you remember him telling you that?"

A frown swept over her face as she shook her head. "No…I miss my daddy. I wanna see him. Can you bring him to me, Thad-yus?"

"I--I'm sorry, Rhonda, I can't, he's still on his business tr--"

"I miss him, Curly," she said somberly, pulling on his arm, forcing him closer.

"I know you do," he said, feeling his heart thumping. He blinked a few times and then asked, "Wait--you called me Curly…"

"That's your name, isn't it?" she asked playfully, running her fingers up his arm. He felt goosebumps everywhere as she continued touching him; words got caught up in his throat as she suddenly didn't seem so drunk anymore.

"I really miss my daddy, Curly," she went on, now working herself onto his lap. "And my mommy too…I get so _lonely_, Curly…"

He certainly hoped she didn't feel his heart as she collapsed on his chest, wrapping her arms and legs about him as he froze on the spot, dumbfounded.

"Stay," she practically commanded, her face buried in his heaving chest. "Stay…"

With a trembling hand, Curly stroked through her dark locks and settled in their position. "Okay…I'll stay," he told her, figuring that he never listened much to his better judgment anyway.

---

A/N: Um--I'd just like to point out that any issues involving teenage pregnancy expressed in this fic don't necessarily reflect my own J

There was quite a lot of fluff up in this chapter, but I hope you all enjoyed it anyway. I promise more excitement next time.


	19. Nineteen

This chapter is_long_ overdue; you all may throw rocks at me. Big ones.

I've been a bad girl and neglecting this due to my ridiculous Watchmen kick (but seriously, you wouldn't blame me if you saw that movie!).

I've also been pretty wrapped in the Batman fic I've got going now--if you're a fan, you should check it out. _Matters of the Heart_. But while you're here, get caught up and read this chapter. It's a relatively long one too, so hopefully I've redeemed myself. Love youz.

**Dis-claym-urr**: If it isn't mine, it's Craig Bartlett's.

**Chapter 19**: Bigal's Cafe

---

"…Hello?"

Gerald stirred about in his bed sheets as he held the phone lazily to his ear. He was dizzy and disoriented from the night before, so he didn't notice that Phoebe's name had come up on his caller ID. Had he seen it, he might not have answered.

"Good morning, Gerald," her voice came in sweetly.

"Oh--Phoebe, hey," he strained, rubbing one of his eyes. "Uh--what's uh…what's goin' on?"

"Oh, did I wake you?" she asked suddenly. "I do apologize, I didn't mean to--"

"Nah, nah, it's okay," he assured her, although he didn't quite mean it. "What's up?"

"I--er--thought that--perhaps you'd be interested in going sledding with us in a couple of hours," she muttered, apparently nervous. What about, he hadn't the foggiest idea--or rather, he dismissed it.

"Oh," he started, determined to come up with some excuse, and the first one he thought of was "I'm uh--supposed to go over Diana's house a little later, though, uh--"

"Diana?" she repeated, her tone switching to a nastier one.

Okay, so that was a poor excuse, but he was stuck now. "Sorry, Pheebs, I uh--"

"Well, that's okay," she cut him off, "I suppose I'll see you later if it so happens that you change your mind…"

He wasn't so sure he would, but said, "Yeah, I--I guess I'll uh--let you guys know if I go."

"Certainly," she said curtly.

"Uh--you mad, Phoebe?" he asked. He didn't have to; he knew for sure that she was. It was easily clear through her voice; her temper had grown to be too obvious to hide.

"No, not at all, Gerald," she answered quickly, then added, "Well, I'm suppose to be meeting Iggy, so I suppose I'll talk to you--later…"

Gerald twisted his mouth. "Iggy?"

"Yes, Gerald, _Iggy_," she answered. "And I don't want to be late, so--goodbye."

She hung up before he could mutter the same.

---

A blinding light, presumably from the window across her bedroom, had woken her up. Grunting, a not-so-hungover Rhonda Lloyd pulled the sheets above her head to block it and try to sleep more, but her butler didn't seem keen on letting her do as such.

"I understand you had quite a night, Miss Lloyd," he began sternly, "but certainly, to sleep past one o' clock would be a waste of one's day."

"Like I had plans."

"One of your friends came a-knocking after breakfast hours," he started, dusting off one of her dressers. "It seems the lot of them will be going sledding around the neighborhood today and wanted you to join."

"Did they say when they were going?" she droned, still submerged in the blankets.

"Three," he told her glumly, "so you have about an hour and a half to get ready."

"Alfred?" she asked as he made a move to leave. He perked his head up and looked at his mistress expectantly.

"When did Curly leave last night?"

A small grin formed on the older man's face as he answered, "Ah. Shortly after you fell asleep. I would say about one in the morning."

Rhonda frowned, feeling her insides harden a bit as she sat up straight in her bed. "He…didn't stay the whole night?"

"No, my dear. He waited to make sure you got to sleep all right, then bade me goodnight, and headed straight home."

"I told him it would be okay if he stayed…"

"He was thinking of the better for you," Alfred told her, then changed the subject. "Would you like to eat anything before you get ready to go?"

Rhonda shook her head, staring out into space. "That's okay, Al, I'll just…buy something at Bigal's later with everyone else."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling for a moment. "I'm--I'm gonna get ready now."

Alfred gave her a wink and left her bedroom, alone with her thoughts. As she rose up out of bed and strode over to her dresser to decide what to wear, she also tried to decide whether or not she was glad that Curly had just gone home instead of woken up next to her.

---

"Ow--_hey_!"

Arnold was making his way to the hill behind Bigal's by himself, since shoveling snow for his grandfather had made him a little late. As he neared the café, a ball of snow and ice hit him on the back of his shoulder, hard. He whirled around, expecting his attacker to be Harold or another boy, but instead it was a blonde girl in a pink pea coat and black hat and gloves.

"First slam of the day, _yutz_," Helga sniggered, rolling up another mound of snow.

"Oh _no_," Arnold teased, bending down to scoop up some snow, but he was a little late--another ball hit him on the head; the icy wetness seeped into his hair.

"Helga!" he screeched, half-laughing. He couldn't deny she made good shots. He guessed she'd had a lot of practice, remembering how she'd made a snowwoman model of her sister on her front lawn a couple years ago and used it as a target.

"How you gonna get me twice!" he yelled after her as she darted behind Bigal's.

She didn't gave a worded answer, just pulled her white snowboard from behind her and lunged down the hill, laughing the whole way down. He shook his head, snow falling from his locks as he did so. He followed her path and met up with the few friends that had already been there.

"Hey guys," Arnold greeted them, waving with a snow-covered hand.

"Hey Arnold," several of them said back.

Phoebe came forward, untangling her arm from Iggy's. "Isn't it lovely outside, Arnold?"

Arnold eyed the two of them oddly as he nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it's--great. Did you guys sled yet?"

"Iggy and I have been for an hour or so," Phoebe told him happily. "We were about to just go inside and purchase some of their hot chocolate--do you want to come in?"

Arnold shook his head again, making the last of the flakes in his hair fall on his shoulders. "Nah, I think I'm gonna sled for a little--wait til I get really cold. Who else is coming?"

"Rhonda is on her way," Sheena said as Phoebe and Iggy went in the café. "So is Harold--and Sid and Eugene and Stinky are at the bottom of the hill."

Arnold peered downward, over his shoulder, and spotted the three boys laughing and tossing snowballs at Helga. She slugged Sid in the gut after he got her twice; he collapsed on the ground while she chased the other two around in a circle.

Arnold lifted his hat and scratched his head as he asked, "Isn't Gerald coming?"

Sheena looked wary. "Phoebe said she called him this morning, but--it seems he already had plans or something."

The blonde boy arched an eyebrow. "Plans? With who?"

"Diana Trumble."

He then lifted both eyebrows.

"I know, random right?" Nadine said for him, reading his face as she appeared next to Sheena. "I didn't know he even talked to the girl. I guess it's just an excuse not to come."

"Why wouldn't he want to, though?" Arnold asked, turning around again to watch Helga and the boys. Sid started working his way up the hill with Eugene as Helga and Stinky continued firing snow at each other.

"Didn't you hear about what happened at Rhonda's last night?" Nadine asked him. He shrugged.

"He chased after Phoebe when she tried to walk home by herself," Sheena told him. "I guess he was buzzed and said something about how he loved her."

Arnold's pear-green eyes widened.

"I know, weird, right?" Nadine asked, glancing sideways at Sheena, who nodded. "He probably feels awkward about it and didn't wanna come."

"Well, what did Phoebe say about it?"

"She said it back, completely sober," Nadine said. "You know Pheebs--she won't mess with alcohol and stuff--but yeah, she meant it, and after he made excuses about it, she decided to keep seeing Iggy and forget about it."

"She's been seeing Iggy?" Arnold repeated, very confused. He was completely oblivious to this.

"It's been kind of on the down-low," Nadine said lowly. "But yeah, they've been on a few dates."

"What?" Arnold said incredulously.

"I know, random right?" Sheena said.

"So…"

"We don't know what's going on, it's crazy," Nadine told him, shrugging. "But I kinda want her and Gerald to get back together. I'm sure she'd ask him back out if he wasn't so retarded about it."

"I'll talk to him later," Arnold said with a frustrated sigh. He looked at Phoebe and Iggy through the window, watching them give each other awkward smiles and pat each other's arms as they talked. It seemed very off and unnatural, the opposite of Phoebe and Gerald.

"What're you _gaping_ at, Hair Boy?"

Arnold turned to meet Helga, who was red-faced and heaving from conquering Stinky in their snowball fight. The taller, lanky country boy was huffing and puffing with his hands on his knees.

"Oh--nothing, just--did you know? About her and Iggy?" he managed to ask, directing his attention back to the odd couple in the café.

"Oh--them," Helga said nasally, hands on her hips. "Yeah, I knew. Random right?"

"So she--likes Iggy, or something?"

Helga cocked her head sideways. "I dunno. She kinda does, and he's kinda on-the-fence about it. But she's mad at _Geraldo_ for being all weird about everything, so she wants to have fun and keep her mind off him until he decides to stop being difficult."

"Oh." Arnold still didn't really understand, but he guessed it would be better just to pretend to, since any further attempts at explaining things would probably only boggle his mind even more.

"Is _Princess_ here yet?" Helga asked the group, looking about.

"Rhonda's on her way," Nadine said with a grin. "Peapod just sent me a text; he's coming too."

"Where'd Popsicle Nose and Carrot Top go?"

"They're inside getting food," Sheena answered, smirking at Helga's use of the nicknames.

Helga peered through the window and shrugged, saying something about being hungry. Arnold glanced sideways at her and told the other girls that he was too, and suggested that Helga follow him inside. He saw Rhonda coming around to the back of the building as he strode in alongside the blonde.

"You ready for the play next week?" he asked off-handedly, knowing her answer already.

"Oh _please_, _Arnoldo_, do you even need to ask?" she huffed, removing her gloves. "Seven days and it's here; if you're not ready _now_, you won't be opening night."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he agreed, staring up at the menu and realizing he wasn't that hungry. "I'm a little worried about Izzy, though."

Helga snorted. "What for?"

"She's never performed before," he threw out there, but leaned closer to her and added quietly, "plus, I'm sure the stress of her brother and Lila isn't putting her any more at ease…"

Helga considered this and shifted her weight, looking over her fingernails. Before she could agree or disagree, a certain red-haired girl appeared behind them.

"Oh, hello you two," she said charmingly, waving at them with a bare, white hand. As Arnold turned to look her over, he noticed that her face was equally as pale.

"Hey, Lila," he said sweetly, softly. He didn't know why he felt like he had to be so delicate with her; surely being pregnant didn't make you _too_ much more fragile a person, but he supposed the girl had been very breakable already. "How are you doing? All right?"

"I'm well, actually," she started, nodding and smiling at Helga, who returned a similar gesture. "Eddie and I are looking for a couple to give the baby to, when it's born."

Arnold's eyes light up as he said, "Oh, really? That's great, Lila! How are you arranging that?"

"There's a website for hopeful parents," she explained. "I made a profile and couples have been responding. It works very much like a dating ad--it's very easy. We're just deciding on who we should give it to."

"Any luck yet?" Helga asked, almost interestedly.

Lila shook her pretty head, shaking the red waves around her shoulders. "Not yet. Eddie thinks I'm being picky, but I just want to be careful."

"Understandably so," Arnold agreed. "So, with all that, I guess--you told your dad?"

She flushed terribly as she admitted, "Well, yes, I did, but…he doesn't know that…well, you know…"

The small smile he forced turned down as he said, "Lila…did you tell him that _Eddie_ is the father?"

She guiltily wrung her hands together as she answered, "Yes, I did, but--Arnold, I'm just…"

Helga glanced sideways at him as he sighed sympathetically. "Yeah…I understand…"

Eddie Gordo walked through the front of the café, removing his gloves and his hat and walking briskly towards his girlfriend. He pulled her close, planted a kiss on her cheek, and gave a smile and a nod to both of the blondes.

"Hey Helga--Arnold," he said gently.

"Hey Eddie," the blondes said together.

"Ready to order, Lila?" he asked the redhead, and she nodded at him.

Taking his hand and leading him to the counter, she said, "I'll see you both later."

"Later, Lila," Arnold said. Helga remained impassive. He looked thoughtfully at her with hopeful eyes, trying to find confirmation in her face of an idea, but got nothing but an exasperated sigh. Arnold sighed too and followed her up to the counter after they watched Lila and her boyfriend find a table in the back. Before the cashier came back to the register, Helga whispered, "We'll think of something."

---

Rhonda trudged through the mounds of white to reach her friends behind the café, scanning the scene before her with narrowed eyes. The only person she was really interested in seeing wasn't in sight, she realized, as Nadine quickly approached her with a smile, wearing that horrid green snowcap she'd asked her to trash two years in a row.

"Nad_ine_," she said immediately, "why are you wearing that _thing_?"

Knitting her eyebrows together, her blonde friend looked confused, but touched a hand to her head and muttered a small "oh."

"Is Curly here?" Rhonda breathed, ignoring how stunned her friend looked by that question.

"Uh--no, he told Eugene he couldn't make it earlier," she told her. "Why?"

"I just--need to talk to him," Rhonda confirmed in a tone that signified that she didn't want to discuss the matter further.

Nadine understood this as Rhonda knew she would and shrugged. "I'm going inside to eat, you hungry?"

"Famished," Rhonda said dramatically, flipping her raven hair and leading the blonde inside. "I'll pick a table; order me a blueberry muffin and a mocha frapp, would you?" she asked, handing Nadine her debit card. Nadine nodded, being used to this, and made her way to the counter as Rhonda picked a table near the front, away from the other friends that were in there. Not that she didn't wish to talk to them at all, but she'd rather sit back and observe.

Observe how Helga G. Pataki, of all people, had that marvelous glint in her eyes whenever Arnold spoke any word at all. It'd still be there even if he was cussing her out, Rhonda supposed with a smirk, however unlikely that event would occur. But she was sure that if it did, Helga would still look at him like that. As she tapped her perfectly manicured nails on the table surface, Rhonda wondered how on earth she managed to get away with having those feelings completely secured. And after all these years. Years, for Christ's sake, and Arnold still hadn't noticed. How could he _not_ see the way the blue in her eyes melted into shining sapphire droplets every time he paid any _ounce_ of attention to her? She swore to herself then that Arnold got too much credit for being so smart. She was starting to study the way Helga's mouth twitched into subtle smiles whenever he looked away from her when Harold's face suddenly appeared in her line of sight.

"Ugh!" Rhonda sputtered in surprise. "Harold, I'd appreciate it if you would _vocally_ announce your presence."

"I said hi to you," he told her, raising a confused eyebrow. "You just were staring into space."

She stopped drumming her fingernails and apologized subtly. Nadine walked over with their orders and slid in the booth next to Rhonda, giving Harold a small smile. He waved quickly.

"What's the deal, Harold?" Rhonda asked rudely, not looking him in the face.

"What, I can't talk to you now?" Harold asked sarcastically. "I didn't know you were that mad about the party."

"The party?" she repeated, picking off pieces of her muffin. "What about the party?"

She looked at Nadine for help, but the blonde shrugged and continued spreading cream cheese on her bagel.

Harold sighed. "Can I talk to you?"

Rhonda raised her eyebrows and spread her arms out as an invitation for him to begin spilling his guts, but he shook his head.

"In private?"

"Can I eat first?"

He groaned. "Come outside when you're done, I'll be sledding."

The dark-haired girl nodded and exchanged odd glances with Nadine as Harold made his way out of the café. Eddie Gordo and his pretty girlfriend left soon after, along with the odd couple, Phoebe and Iggy. Rhonda bit into her muffin scornfully as she reverted back to studying Helga jealously.

---

Iggy was boring. Totally and completely boring. Of course, he was indeed a gentleman, having opened his front door for her and offered five times to walk her home, but as Phoebe insisted that she'd be fine alone in the daylight, she realized he was very, very boring.

As she made her way down his street, she realized how tired she was of doing the majority of the talking, picking out what they would do together, and arranging all of the plans. She was tired of the awkward hugs and totally unnatural giggling at one other's jokes and snide remarks in situations. She was tired of not having anything in common at all with him--of course, she hadn't had much in common with Gerald, either, but at least they could _talk_ about things. Iggy hardly talked at all, and when he did, he didn't offer any substantial subjects. He didn't make her think, make her imagine, or make her feel. At least Gerald's conversation was fruitful; she was always learning something different about him. Gerald was fascinating. The only fascinating thing about Iggy was his beautiful interpretation of Pink Floyd the Wall (which he developed when he was completely stoned), and even that held minimal interest. Iggy was really nice. A really nice boy. But he wasn't Gerald. Nobody was Gerald, so Phoebe decided that she was going to give up looking for a substitute as she approached her street. As she made her way to her stoop, she saw nobody--nobody but Gerald sitting there with his head on his knees. She smiled and stepped closer, clearing her throat so that he'd realize her presence. He looked up and grinned that grin she could grin back at with ease.

Yes. She could stop looking for a substitute now.

---

Harold felt nausea sweeping over him as he watched Rhonda descend the hill with caution, probably being careful not to trip and fall down the length of it. God forbid she dirtied up that red parka; Harold knew it was her favorite of her array of winter attire. It was his too, admittedly, because he loved how she looked in it. She was super pretty--prettier then Audrey Hapburn or whatever her name was, from that Breakfast at Whoever's Place movie that his mother loved. He felt a tightening in his chest as she approached him in the snow, shoving her hands inside the big pockets. Her eyes did that twinkling thing they always did when she was about to inquire.

"So? What is it that you felt the urge to speak privately about?" she said impatiently, quivering from the cold. He wanted to wrap his big arms about her, but knew she wasn't drunk enough to let him do so.

"Rhonda," he started, feeling queasy, "I--about your party last night--"

"What about it?" she pushed. She always pushed.

"Do you--remember what happened?"

"What happened, Harold?" she asked, clearly frustrated.

Harold's heart sped up as he thought back to it. "I--I dunno how to tell you this, Rhonda--"

"What _is_ it, Harold?" she pressed, her eyes flashing.

"Do you remember," he began again, "when we were the only ones in the kitchen, and you were getting the pie ready…"

Rhonda narrowed her eyes at him, sensing his sensation. Oh, he'd never be able to lie to her, not when she looked at him with eyes like that.

"We--you asked me to help you," he went on, shivering under her gaze, "and you kinda--dropped the pie on me."

"Oh," she said, relaxing her face. "I'm sorry about that--I was pretty drunk…"

Harold swallowed, afraid to continue. How could he, after he just got the explanation he was looking for?

"Well, what, is that it?" she asked, aware of his pause.

"Uh--not really," he admitted nervously. She gave a demanding glare. "Ya see--you apologized, and then you sorta--uh--"

"What?" she asked charily, widening her dark eyes.

Harold snatched the hat off of his head and stretched it in his hands. "Uh--you told me that--you were all like…like…"

"Like what, exactly?" she pushed on, looking more afraid then stern.

"You started--hugging me," he told her, blushing furiously. "You said something like, 'oh, you know you like me, Harold,' and you--you--"

Rhonda took her hands out of her pockets and began shaking her head. She whispered something to herself that sounded like "oh no," but Harold couldn't tell.

"You--you kinda--kissed me," he finally said, watching in awe as she seemed to be getting in a fit.

She opened her eyes and looked fiercely at him, inching closer as her face turned whiter and whiter. She inhaled heavily and said, barely loud enough for him to hear, "No. Harold, I was drunk. Dead drunk. Whatever happened last night between you--and me--was completely--by accident. I had no idea--what I was doing."

He swallowed again, harder this time, feeling more nauseous than ever as she continued to advance on him.

"Whatever I did or said to you was out of a stupor and it didn't mean anything. _Anything, _do you hear me, Harold?"

"Y-yeah," he assured her, placing his hat back on.

"Now I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about this--assuming you haven't already," she said severely, staring daggers at him.

"No, no I didn't, I swear," he promised, backing up.

"Good. Now let's get on with our lives and pretend this conversation--and that kiss--never happened, shall we?" she said bitterly, faking a smile. It was an alluring smile, regardless.

He nodded and started chewing on his lip.

"Okay. See you around, Harold."

And she left. Left him alone, like she had the night before at the party. Harold blinked back disappointed tears as he remembered how she jumped off his lap and ran out of the kitchen to hop all over Curly, taking that delectable pie with her.

---

"How about…them?"

Eddie wrinkled his nose. "Too old."

"You sure?"

"Uh--I like the looks of this couple," Eddie redirected, pointing to a younger, blonde twosome. Both were dressed in suits and had pearly white teeth.

"I don't," Lila admitted, eyeing the haughty-looking woman's picture nastily. "These two look friendlier."

Eddie glanced at a different picture on Lila's computer screen, depicting a tall man and a short woman, both of whom had curly dark hair and pale complexions.

"Click on their profile," Eddie told her.

Lila did so and revealed more information about them--Andy and Karen Robinson, their names turned out to be. According to the site, they were twenty-six and twenty-three years old, both only children, and both part-time workers. Unable to have kids because of some sort of medical condition Karen had, but wanted a child very badly. That was enough to have sold Lila, but not Eddie.

"I'm not sure," he said, scrolling down the page for his girlfriend. "Maybe. Keep looking."

Lila clicked the "back" button on her browser and revealed the profiles again. The couples displayed on the page started to appear more and more alike, until she reached the end of it.

"Um--Eddie, look," she said, pointing to a picture of two attractive men. One blonde and one brunette, both tall and tan and relatively muscular. She clicked on their picture to retrieve more info.

"Will and Richard," Lila read.

Eddie raised his eyebrows and backed away from the desktop. "Uh--Lila--"

"They're both twenty-seven," Lila started, scrolling the page. "Will works for Abercrombie and Richard is a theater arts teacher…at your high school!"

Eddie did a double-take, then leaned over her shoulder to examine the web page more closely. It was true, Richard Campbell was indeed the drama director at Woodbury High. Eddie scrutinized his photo, realizing that he'd seen this man many times in passing before, mostly around the art department. He'd actually seen him coming into the visual arts room several times before to discuss random things with Miss Novak from time to time. As he remembered the man's charisma and charm, he looked at his partner and mulled over how on earth he couldn't guess that he was gay before.

"Whatever's wrong?" Lila asked, noticing his muteness.

Eddie waved it off. "Nothing, I just…never thought him to be…"

Lila smiled warmly. "I understand. But…he and William seem very…"

Eddie rolled his eyes inwardly, already knowing what she wanted to say. "You like them best, don't you?"

She nodded vigorously, flashing her teeth at him.

"I'll write down their number," he droned.

---

A/N: Gerald/Phoebe again :]

You all must know, of course, that Harold is referring to Audrey Hepburn and Breakfast at Tiffany's. I had him mess that up on purpose but it doesn't seem to me that he would know about many things before his time, especially things like really old movies and actors. I think his mom would, though. Oh, Marilyn Berman.

Campbell is one of my closest friend's last names, and Veidt is Adrian's (Ozymandias) last name from Watchmen ;]

Man, this is crazy boring. I'm sorry you guys, you all deserve better than this bull, but I promise the juice is coming up in a matter of time. We've still got Elena's Christmas play, Arnold's/Helga's/Isabella's plan to put Robbie in his place, and a few romance matters that must be taken care of. Stick with it! :]


	20. Twenty

**DAMN it's been a while. I'm so very sorry; you all must hate me so much right now, haha. Read my profile for the reason of delay. Here's the next chapter; hope you all still love it. Hearts and flowers. =]**

**Dis-claym-urr**: If it isn't mine, it's Craig Bartlett's.

**Chapter 20**: Mothers and Mistakes

---

Eugene always loved airports. It used to be because they were big and exciting; full of people rushing and bustling. Everyone had somewhere to be, and he liked that. He liked that thought, of everyone belonging somewhere, even for a short amount of time. He liked being reminded that people were connected, even just by going here or there.

As he grew, though, airports started to make him see that there was more love in the world than everyone realized. He cracked a smile as he followed his mother down the ramps, brushing past small groups of teens boarding different flights and couples embracing and laughing. He saw a mother hug a son that she probably hadn't seen in a year; a young girl hugging two of her best friends that she probably hadn't been with since she'd moved to a different state. A grinning man introduced his fiancé to his younger brother; a woman in her thirties handed her mother a large bouquet of daisies as she came out of the tunnel. It was these small gestures of affection and adoration that formed lumps in his throat; made him forget about the day and age's negativity and cruelty. He felt tingles in his arms as he neared the gate, itching to wrap them about the blonde boy he knew that would be coming through in a few moments' time.

Mrs. Horowitz rubbed her son's back as they approached, smiling warmly as she peered into the tunnel. "That's him, isn't it?"

Eugene's eyes flitted forward, watching the departing people roll their carry-on luggage out. He saw a man in a suit rush past, talking loudly on his phone; a younger woman hurry off, digging through her purse, and then _he_ emerged after her, looking warily about himself, clutching his duffel.

"Yeah," Eugene choked out, his insides coiling in anticipation. "That's him."

His mother gave him a light shove and Eugene scurried over to Peter, arms swung open. The boy's blue eyes lit up like brilliant stars and returned the gesture, meeting him quickly. They crashed into each other, neither one able to suppress their grins of delight. Eugene held onto him for what felt like hours, savoring the familiar scent of the beach in his sandy hair. He pulled away slowly, but kept a light hold on his arms. He bore into his glorious eyes, seeing the summer sky inside them, remembering.

"I'm so happy you're here," he said breathlessly, still smiling.

Peter gave a laugh and sighed, running a hand across Eugene's freckled cheek. "Me too."

---

Harold didn't know why he was so hesitant to knock on the door; it wasn't as if he'd never done it before. Not like he never came to the Lloyd mansion at night. He'd done this dozens of times. Sure, he had never came just to talk, especially not to just talk about his _feelings_, but there was really no reason to be nervous about ringing the doorbell. He lifted a sweaty hand to do so, but pulled it back.

_Come on, Harold, suck it up_, he told himself inwardly, drawing in a breath. He pressed the little white button and waited for the door to open. Thirty seconds--he counted--and the Lloyds' middle-aged butler greeted him.

"Ah, Master Berman," Alfred said, his accent relaxing Harold slightly. "How may I be of service?"

"Uh--is--Rhonda here?" he asked sheepishly, rocking on his heels.

A small frown tugged at Alfred's mouth as he answered, "I'm afraid not, dear boy. Miss Lloyd is keeping company with another young gentleman in the park this evening."

"Oh." Harold felt his intestines twist low in his belly. "When did she leave?"

"Just half an hour ago," Alfred told him. "Said she'd back by curfew."

Harold shoved his hands in his pockets and found that he had trouble breathing; a weight seemed to have been dropped on his chest as he gazed past the butler and into nothing at all, imagining Rhonda cuddled up to a stranger on a park bench.

"Shall I tell her you've been by, Master Berman?"

Harold blinked inanely and refocused on Alfred, then shook his head. "Nah, it's okay. I…I'll just catch her tomorrow or something."

Alfred gave a small smile and nodded. "Very well then, dear boy. Have a good night."

"See ya, Alfred," Harold said quickly, waving and then descending the front stairs. He exhaled slowly, watching the clouds from his breath swirl in the air. Pulling on his collar, he shuddered and trudged along to the city park, not imagining that he'd see Rhonda encircling her arms about Curly Gammelthorpe's waist on the bench when he got there.

---

It was the lack of coffee in the air that woke Helga. Her nostrils flared against her pillow, taking in the scent of fresh cotton sheets and a hint of Big Bob's cologne instead of breakfast. Her eyes fluttered open to view the clock, reading 10:25 AM. She sniffed the air again. The cologne was still strong; Bob had probably just left. He must not have had a meeting today, otherwise he wouldn't have gone so late, but why couldn't she smell anything from the kitchen?

Stretching, Helga slipped on her house shoes and straightened out her pink pajama pants. Pulling her hair up as she walked through the hall and down the stairs, she started to smell something--something burning. Upon reaching the kitchen, she noticed that the stove was still on and rushed to switch it off.

_Dammit, Bob,_ she thought angrily, examining the frying pan he left sitting there. He probably tried to make himself scrambled eggs and failed miserably.

"Miriam!" she hollered, tossing the pan in the sink and running water over it. Steam rose into the air and disappeared after she turned the faucet off. "Miri_am_!"

Helga looked over the counter: the coffee-maker was empty; it hadn't even been turned on since the day before. The bread box was shut and the cabinets were too; the fruit basket on the table hadn't been touched. Helga opened the oven; nothing was inside, not even a can of shaving cream or a packet of cheese crackers. Miriam hadn't been in the kitchen all morning.

The blonde shuffled around the kitchen and back upstairs to her parents' room to check. The door was left ajar and she peered in, expecting to see a lump of blanket that would tell her that her mother was underneath, but there was nothing. She stepped inside, flicked the light on, but no Miriam.

Furrowing her brow, Helga wondered how late she'd stayed out the night before. Sure, most Friday nights Miriam stayed out til past midnight, but she'd never not come home before. That was definitely weird. She scratched the top of her head as she returned downstairs, wondering where the hell her mother could be.

Helga flopped into Big Bob's armchair and clicked the TV on, channel surfing for a few minutes before something on the side table caught her eye. A little note with her name in big letters at the top rested beside an empty shot glass.

_Helga sweetie--_

_Went to hospital this morning. Be back before dark. Nothing to worry about, just had a little accident at the bar last night. See you and your father later._

_Love, M_

Helga scoffed and rolled her eyes, crushing the note and chucking it in the little wastebasket across the room. Bob probably didn't even notice it there. She shrugged, guessing that it probably _was_ nothing to worry about and went back to channel surfing.

---

"You okay?"

Lila snapped her head up to meet Eddie's worried gaze. She frowned slightly upon looking at him; his eyes watery with dark bags under them, mouth turned down and forehead wrinkled. He looked like that far too often now. To encourage him, she flashed her teeth, clasping his hand in his lap.

"I'm oh-so certain that I'm fine. Are you?"

"Yeah," he said quickly, nodding. "Yeah, yeah, I'm great, great."

"Really?" she said, scooting up in her seat. "Because you don't look it."

"I don't?" he asked, almost squeaking.

Lila grinned playfully and squeezed his hand. "You look ever so anxious all the time now, Eddie. It worries me."

Eddie exhaled, ruffling a hand through his hair, exasperated. "I'm sorry, it's just…I'm just worried about you, you know? All this…baby business, adoption stuff…It gets me all worked up."

Lila licked her lips and then kissed his cheek lightly, rubbing his hands. "It's going to be just fine, Eddie. All you need is a little hope, hm?"

"You have so much on your plate and you rely on _hope_ to make you feel okay with it?" he asked, a little too skeptically for her liking.

Lila sighed and looked off into the sunlight, watching people going by on the street near the eatery they settled at. How carefree they all looked, smiling as they walked their dogs, held hands, talked on their phones. Pushed their babies in strollers. She watched a younger woman wave a stuffed lion in front her little child in the stroller, forcing a smile under her agitated eyes. That would be her in a few months, if this didn't work out…

She turned back to Eddie. "I'm not okay with any of this, Eddie, but if I have some faith, it will be better."

Eddie breathed slowly, looking at her fascinated. He brushed a few waves of flaming red hair from her shoulders. "I wish I could be as calm and brave as you…"

Lila smiled and reached out for his face, twirling a few of his dark curls before she cupped his cheek.

"I love you, Edward."

The boy leaned into her hand and blinked slowly. "I love you too, Lila."

A squeal from across their table startled both of them, making the couple gasp. Lila squinted in the light, looking up at the noise's source. Two very handsome men--one blonde and the other brunette--stared down at them, both smiling widely.

"Miss Sawyer?" the darker man of the two asked, shading his eyes with one hand. His brown hair curled over his ears and he wore thick-rimmed glasses.

Lila grinned, recognizing them. Standing up, she extended a small hand. "Hello, Mister Campbell--Mister Veidt."

The brunette man laughed and grasped her hand, shaking it enthusiastically. "Oh, _Richard_, please! And this is Will, my boyfriend."

Lila took the taller, blonde man's hand and shook it just as warmly. He flashed her a pearly white smile and then he and his partner both sat down at the table.

"And this must be young Edward," Richard Campbell said, nodding and smiling at the boy who shrank under his gaze.

"Hello," Eddie said timidly, waving.

"You're in Miss Novak's class, aren't you, Edward?" Richard asked him attentively, shifting in his seat.

"Yeah, yeah I am," he answered, voice shaking slightly. "That's why I knew you looked familiar in the pictures."

"Yes, I remembered you when Lila mentioned you in her e-mail," he told him pleasantly. "Nora's shown me some of your work--says you're one of her best students."

Lila giggled as she watched the color rise drastically in her boyfriend's face as he stammered, "R-really? She--she showed you?"

William smiled at Eddie, making him flush deeper as he said, "Yes, showed me too. Fantastic flair for painting--reminds me a little of Monet."

"Th-thank you," Eddie said, running a hand through his curls. The two men laughed and averted their eyes toward Lila.

"So, how've you been feeling, lovely?" Richard asked her, leaning over to lay a hand on hers.

Lila welcomed the gesture, feeling much more at ease about everything as she looked past his spectacles and into his kind brown eyes. "I'm all right; it's one of my better days."

"Better up here?" William asked, pointing to his head, "or down here?" he finished, patting his stomach.

"In both places," Lila answered with a soft grin.

Richard nodded, smiling at his boyfriend before turning back to the younger couple. "So…should we decide on a few things before the agent arrives?"

Eddie looked quizzically at Lila, who disregarded him and nodded, suddenly serious. "Yes."

"Is there anything you'd like to ask us?" Will said, resting his elbows on the table.

Eddie shrugged, but Lila said, "A couple of things, just in general."

The men nodded and gestured for her to go on.

"Do either of you have any experience in parenting?"

"My sister lived with us for a few months," Will started, looking at Richard first before he continued. "Her husband got into an accident and didn't make it, so she was alone with her two little ones. I quit my job at the antique store to stay home with the girls while she and Richard worked."

"This was a year or two ago; she married her high school sweetheart and moved out since then," Richard added.

"Would you rather a girl or a boy?" Lila asked curiously, folding her hands.

"We really would love a little girl," William began, but Richard waved him off.

"_But_, we would welcome the baby no matter the gender."

Lila smiled and took in a deeper breath, hesitant about her next question. She looked at Eddie uneasily and proceeded, "Suppose…the baby had any defects or health problems, would that--"

"Oh no," Richard began sweetly. "Don't even worry about that. Whatever happens we'll still have it."

Relieved, Lila sighed and leaned back in her seat. "Well--I suppose all that's left is--what kind of adoption we want."

"There's different kinds?" Eddie asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Yes," Richard started to explain. "We can have either a closed or open adoption. Open would mean that you could both have a relationship with the child even thought it would legally be ours, and closed means that--well, you wouldn't."

"You mean, we couldn't see it, or talk to it, or…anything?" Eddie asked, giving Lila troubled glances.

"In legal terms, yes," Richard said, then added, addressing Lila, "but we would let you choose whatever terms you wanted. If you wanted to see the baby, or talk to it, or even tell it that you're the real mother--it doesn't matter to us. We'd be happy to share the child's life with you if you said you wanted to."

Lila wasn't very sure if that was what she wanted. She thought of how angry she'd be at her father or mother if they'd have given her away; how abandoned and unwanted she'd feel. Unloved and disregarded for the sake of keeping a secret, keeping everyone safe. She felt the words rising in her throat, ready to request the closed adoption, but then she looked at Eddie.

Eddie, who, as much as she wished, was not her child's father. Her child's father had never known a father of his own, and lost his mother, and lived off of hate. He fed off of a thirst for power and dominance; some sort of control. Robbie, her baby's father, who raped her, who stripped her of her innocence, but also opened her eyes to how precious love was. How precious a family was. How important the truth was. Robbie had known so little truth…she didn't want his baby to be deprived of it, too. She didn't want her baby to be built on a secret.

"I want to."

Eddie's eyes drew wide as Richard and William exchanged surprised looks.

"I want him or her to know me," she said. "I want the baby to know as much of the truth as possible. I've kept enough secrets."

The brunette man grabbed his partner's hand as he grinned. Eddie inched his chair closer to Lila's and started rubbing her back, smiling despite the tears forming in his eyes. Lila leaned on him, blinking very slowly as she secured herself under their gaze, filled with warmth. With hope. She looked past the men and saw another woman pushing a stroller. That wouldn't be her, she realized contently. This would work out.

---

It would have been pitch dark outside had it not been for the fleeting snow. Helga eyed the light clouds outside her windows as she pulled her stockings up to her thighs and rummaged around for her costume bag. She pulled it off of her bookcase and swung it about her shoulders, slipping her feet into her heels and huffing as she exited her bedroom. Her cat scampered in front of her as she hastened down the stairs; she didn't even bother shouting a goodbye to her parents, but before she reached the foyer her mother called her name.

"Helga?"

The blonde stopped right in front of the door and jerked around. "_What_, Miriam? I gotta _go_, Rhonda's gonna be here any minute!"

"No she won't," Miriam called in reply. "Come in the kitchen, honey..."

With a scoff and an eye-roll, Helga stomped into the kitchen and found her mother, drying a champagne glass with a dish towel by the sink. She was facing the little window above the faucet with her head bowed.

"What, Miriam?" Helga repeated impatiently.

"Helga, sweetie…" she sighed slowly, resting the clean glass on the counter. She turned to face her daughter with the weariest eyes she'd ever worn. Helga furrowed her brow and bit on her lip, noticing that this was the first time she'd looked Miriam in the face in months.

"Would you mind very much if…_I _drove you to rehearsal?"

Helga arched an eyebrow. "What for?"

"I--would just like to talk to you, honey…"

Shifting on the spot, Helga tightened her hold on her costume bag and shrugged. "Yeah, sure Mom…I'll--text Rhonda…"

Weakly, Miriam forced a smile and tossed her daughter the car keys from the kitchen table. "Go--start it up for me, please, dear? I need to…drink something first…"

Helga nodded suspiciously and fiddled with her phone as she made her way to the garage.

---

Since she didn't have to take Helga to rehearsal, Rhonda figured she'd take a detour before heading over to the school. She had an hour or two to spare before the play started, so she thought about stopping by Curly's house to see if he needed a ride. On the way to his place, she rode the limo around the park and admired the wintry scene laid out before her. The subtle beams of light from the streetlamps seemed to make the freshly falling snow glitter and glisten before it all rested on the cobblestone, making Rhonda sigh with its simplistic beauty. She asked her driver to park in front of the entrance for a few moments, just so she could watch the cuddling couples walk hand-in-hand down the path into the dim winter evening. She made a mental note to convince Curly to walk with her like that on a night such as this, and then asked Sherman to continue down Cherry Street.

Once they hit Madison, two streets over from Curly's house, they passed a grand Victorian house; crippled, old-fashioned, but still very hauntingly enchanting. Rhonda asked Sherman to stop so she could look at it a bit longer; try to understand why it looked so familiar. The black fence surrounding it triggered her memory in particular as she squinted, trying to study it under the thickening snow. She looked closer and noticed a figure emerging from the dark of the front porch and felt slightly compelled to scream, but when the silhouette shifted in shape, she relaxed. Harold was dawdling in the shadows, appearing to be talking to someone she couldn't quite see.

"Sherman, roll the window down, if you would," she told her driver politely, leaning out of it as it was opened.

She meant to call out to Harold, just because she was curious, but he noticed her head poking out of the limo and walked briskly towards the sidewalk.

"Rhonda?" he asked rather loudly, digging his hands into his pockets.

"Harold," she said, scrunching her nose up at the biting cold. "What are you doing around this--creepy old house?"

"It's _not_ a creepy old house," he said defensively. "It was Victoria's house!"

"Victoria?" Rhonda repeated, confused.

"Yeah, Victoria," he said dully. "Don't you remember her? The little old lady that used to dump water on me whenever I passed by?"

Rhonda snorted, stifling a laugh. "Oh, yeah, her. I remember. What're you--doing at her place? It doesn't look like she's been home in ten years."

"She died last year," Harold said somberly. Rhonda instantly felt bad. "Last time I saw her, she asked me to keep coming back here to take care of her cat."

"Her _cat_?"

"Yeah, Thirsten," Harold said plainly, still on defense.

"I don't remember that being the cat's name," Rhonda said almost teasingly, remembering much better now.

"I was stupid and called it something different," Harold told her, dropping his eyes to the sidewalk. "But yeah, I always liked the cat, so I come back and feed it and play with it whenever I can."

"Why not just take it home with you?" Rhonda asked, looking past Harold at the front porch. From her seat inside the limo, she saw the feline, chocolate-colored with a creamy white spot on his chest. The green-blue eyes were reflecting the snow, shining eerily in the shadows.

"He doesn't wanna leave," Harold said, looking over his shoulder. He smiled slightly, watching the creature coil about one of the pillars on the porch. "I guess being here makes him feel like Victoria's still with him."

It was a cheesy, sappy thing to say, but deep down, Rhonda understood. Once you love someone and they're gone, you cling to the remains. Stupid as she felt, she believed the cat knew it, too.

"That's really sweet, Harold."

"What is?" Harold almost squeaked, finally looking back at her.

"That you care enough about that cat to keep it company."

The boy grinned bashfully and scratched at his neck. "Yeah, I guess so. He doesn't have anybody else so--I wanna give him a friend."

Rhonda smiled and looked at the porch again. Thirsten was inching down the steps, eyes still flickering. He appeared fascinated by the falling snowflakes; pouncing at the air and scratching at spots on the concrete path. Her eyes found Harold again.

"Harold."

He swallowed visibly. Rhonda's stomach dropped.

"You going to the Christmas play?"

Shrugging, he admitted, "Oh--I dunno. Sid and Stinky went with Gloria and some chick, and Eugene's going with his _boyfriend_, so..."

She grinned invitingly and opened the door. "I'll take you."

Raising his eyebrows, he backed up a few steps on the sidewalk.

Rhonda shook her head. "It's okay. You wanna go? Come on."

Harold smiled again and followed Rhonda inside the car. With one last look at Thirsten, Rhonda asked Sherman to roll up the window again and take them straight to the school without stopping by Curly's.

---

The snow had stopped coming down by the time Helga and her mother got on the road. As Helga sank into the passenger's seat, she watched the clouds thin out, admiring the stretches of midnight blue and deep purple. She didn't look at Miriam since she settled in the car, waiting for her to initiate conversation. She was the one who wanted to talk; Helga figured she'd let her start it. And if she didn't, well, it wasn't like she wasn't used to silent car rides. She let out a huff and leaned her head on the window, staring straight over the dashboard. Miriam's fingers loosened around the steering wheel.

"Helga, sweetie…"

_Took ya long enough_, Helga thought, scoffing inwardly. "Yes, Miriam?"

"I'm really excited about watching your play tonight."

Helga snapped upright in her seat. "W-what?"

"I'm gonna stay and see the play," she said in the same droll tone as before. As always. "Since I haven't seen one in a while and your dad…" she sighed and gripped the steering wheel tighter. "I should be doing this, as your mom."

Helga frowned, recalling having a conversation just like this years ago. "Mom…it's okay, you don't have to if you don't want--"

"No, Helga, I do," she cut her off, but spoke gently. "I want to. I realized a lot of things lately and I wanted to talk to you…"

"Things like…what?" Helga asked, particularly curious.

Miriam let out a deep sigh. "Helga…I was about your age when I met the love of my life."

Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth to say "Dad?" but somewhere inside of her, something told her it wasn't him.

"It wasn't Bob--your dad--his name was Dave," she said, confirming the gut feeling in Helga. "He was…an amazing person, Helga, and I loved him."

"W-what happened, Mom?" Helga asked, more afraid than she wanted to be of the answer. She finally focused on her face, noticing the darkened circles under her eyes. The light from the dashboard and the outside city danced on her glasses as she bit at her thin, pink lips. Another sigh.

"He moved away, far, far away," Miriam began somberly, staring right ahead. "I never told him how I felt about him until years and years later, when I married your father. He came to the wedding and we talked at the reception…and I told him how much I loved him in high school."

"What did he say?" Helga asked in a small voice.

A familiar croaking noise erupted from Miriam's throat and Helga half-expected to hear Olga's ear-splitting wail followed by blubber, but it didn't come. Miriam just sniffled and allowed tears to roll freely down her face.

"He told me that he loved me too, and if I'd had just said something--we'd have been together. We would have made it work."

Helga bit at her lip, suddenly finding it painful to look at her mother anymore, so she focused instead on her hands, loosening and tightening her fingers on the steering wheel as she started to cry lightly.

"But it was too late; I married your father. I wasn't going to leave him--he had a good job and a good family and he loved me…Hard to believe now, but your dad loves me. He still does--and don't get me wrong, I love your father very much, Helga."

Helga's face hardened at that; she'd never stop believing that her parents' marriage was a load of crock, but she listened intently anyway.

"I'm telling you this because I don't want you to make the same mistakes I made, then and now," Miriam continued, catching her breath and wiping her face, speeding up as they reached the school.

Helga looked at her curiously, and before she could ask what she meant, Miriam went on.

"I've done a lot of stupid things, Helga," she told her daughter with a cough. "All because I'm so discouraged by your father. I didn't want an unhappy marriage, and as soon as I knew I missed out on Dave, I knew I was doomed to have one--so I did a lot of bad things, so that I could hide my anger from him better."

"Mom…" Helga felt her hand twitch, still focused on the steering wheel.

"I was at the hospital early this morning, Helga, because I made a mistake," she began, choking on tears. She leaned forward in her seat, squinting to see the road ahead clearly. They were nearing the high school; a sign for the play lit up the front entrance.

"Mom--are you--okay?" Helga stammered, reaching for her mother's hand. This move surprised even her, but somehow it felt right to do it. She rested her palm on Miriam's fingers as they pulled into the parking lot. Not a lot of cars were there. The play wouldn't be starting for another hour.

Miriam turned off the Jetta and leaned her head on the steering wheel, crying silently. Helga furrowed her brow, panicking inside her head, completely baffled and still extremely curious.

"I was sleeping--with another m-man, because your father hardly ever t-touches me anymore," she blubbered, voice thick with tears. "I got pregnant and I couldn't--I couldn't--"

Eyes wide as tea saucers, Helga pressed her lips tightly; with her free hand, she hesitantly rubbed her mother's back.

"I had to get rid of it…I c-couldn't do that to y-your f-f-father…"

"Shh. It's okay, Mom," Helga cooed, shock and disbelief slapping her in the face as she made the best attempt she could to comfort her mother. She hardly blinked as she watched Miriam crumble in the driver's seat, shaking and sobbing and lighting a cigarette. She didn't even know her mom smoked until now; what else was going on with her?

A few minutes passed and Miriam calmed herself, finishing her smoke and wiping her face with tissues from her purse. She laughed hollowly at herself and gazed at her daughter apologetically.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," she began almost inaudibly, "to have dumped all that on you right before your play…"

Helga shook her head and rubbed her mom's hand. "No, Miriam, it's--"

"You must think I'm so awful now," Miriam said, more so to herself as she dabbed at her swollen eyes.

"_No_, no, no," Helga said fiercely, gaping at her. "That's not what I think at all, Miriam, really--"

"Really?" she repeated pitifully, sniffling once more.

"Really, Mom," Helga said more gently, almost smiling. "Really. I'm glad you told me all this, cuz--it lets me know you care about me."

A smile stretched across Miriam's colorless face, relaxing her features. She stuffed the tissues back in her purse and set it under the seat as Helga shifted around.

Helga removed her hand from Miriam's slowly and met her eyes again, looking into them for the first time in what must have been years. She'd never noticed that they were the same color as her own. Almost exactly the same shade of blue. It made forming words tougher, for some reason, but she swallowed and went on.

"Miriam--whatever happens…you're still my mom, and I love you, just the way you are."

If words could melt a person, Miriam Pataki would probably have been reduced to a puddle right then. Gleefully she pulled her in for the tightest hug Helga had probably ever gotten from her and Helga just patted her back, a small but sincere grin playing on her lips. It faded though, when she guessed that Bob probably hadn't hugged her in months. At this thought, she cleared her throat.

"Mom--I hate to cut this all short, but uh--I gotta get to rehearsal," she said dolefully over her shoulder.

"Oh--yeah, right, I'm sorry honey…"

Helga gave her a weak smile and scooped up her bag, taking in the "good luck" and the "I love you." As she shut the car door and made her way to the sidewalk, she figured she didn't know exactly how she felt about all she'd just learned, but knew for sure that she didn't lie to Miriam. She did, deep down, truly love her mom, and nothing--not even things like cheating or abortion--would ever change that.

---

A/N: Just so you all know, I'm going to have to change the rating to M soon. The future content will call for it; I'll put warnings in the story's summary as we progress.


	21. Twenty One

'Ay everyone--sorry about the lag again; if you've been checking my profile, you'll have seen that I was visiting PA the past couple weeks and therefore didn't have a lot of time to write. I'll be updating much more often now that I'm home, though. Thank you all for the encouraging reviews; old readers, thanks for everything, and new readers, welcome aboard; hope you'll all be impressed with what's about to unfold here. Enjoy.

**Dis-claym-urr**: All things Hey Arnold belong to Craig Bartlett, yadda yadda yadda…

**Chapter 21**: The Right Thing

---

"_Hey_!"

Arnold whirled about in his fold-out chair, breathing a sigh of relief as he watched Helga charge in through the swinging doors backstage in a huff. She rushed over to the vanity set beside him and began digging around in her wardrobe bag.

"How late _am_ I?" she asked without looking at him, scooping up an eyeliner pencil and mascara wand.

"Not very, she hasn't called roll yet," Arnold assured her, smiling with ease.

She shot him a quick grin and started fixing her makeup, drawing on the lines of her eyes and thickening her lashes. After pasting on lipstick and dabbing blush on her cheeks, she fumbled around in her bag again and pulled out the dress she had to wear for the first few scenes.

"What kept you?" he started curiously. "I thought you'd have shown up here at least twenty minutes early."

"_Miriam_ did," she answered, stripping down to her undershirt and shorts. Pulling the dress over her head, she continued, "It was really freaking _weird_, Arnoldo, I can't even begin to _express_ how crazy that conversation was…"

"What'd she tell you?" Arnold asked, watching her arms poke out through the sleeves.

Helga twisted the dress around until it hugged her waist correctly and smoothed out the skirts. She faced the boy and reached behind herself to tie the back of the bodice, but struggled as she answered, "Just a lotta weird--_random_ stuff, like…I can't even wrap my head around some of the--_ugh_--well, if you wanna _know _so bad you can wait til _after_ the show to--_dammit_, I can't get this stupid thing, Arnold, would you tie this crap for me?"

She turned around on the spot, exposing her back to the blonde boy, who hesitantly went over and gently grasped the ribbons of the dress. He tugged on them lightly, earning himself a scolding from Helga, and proceeded to tighten them just enough so that she could move comfortably in it. Arnold felt his fingers tremble for the whole sixty seconds they wandered around her back; a swooping sensation turned his stomach as he recognized that he hadn't touched Helga like this in almost a year. He'd forgotten how much he liked it, how warm and right it felt, with his hands about her body, but quickly shook the thought as she whirled around and pushed him towards the curtains.

"Come _on_, I don't wanna wait around to see Elena to have a conniption!"

---

"She's beautiful, isn't she?"

Eddie glanced sideways at Lila, whose gaze remained fixed on the girl center stage, belting the high notes of "All I Want for Christmas." He shrugged, tightening the arm he'd slung over his girlfriend's shoulder.

"I've seen prettier," he replied with a smirk. Lila shook her head.

"I didn't know Isabella was such a fantastic singer."

Eddie raised his eyebrows and nodded in agreement, finally paying attention to her voice instead of her hauntingly familiar face and hair. "Yeah, I'll give her that. She's very gifted."

He bit at his lip in focus, watching how Isabella Winters moved in a sultry fashion on her platform, flirting with the audience with winks and finger points. Her hips would swing this way and that, rhythmic with the tempo; her hair bounced and swayed about her shoulders when she turned. The stage lights made her freckled skin glow and Eddie suddenly felt extremely sick to his stomach.

Eddie did agree; she _was_ beautiful, but not the kind of beautiful he thought Lila was, or Olga had been. He wasn't attracted to Isabella like he could have been other girls; there was some other magnetism about her that drew him in, and he couldn't put his finger on it. There was no rush of lust or desire when his eyes ran over her body; no temptation, no want. He sank a little farther into his seat, thinking that the freckles on her arms and the curve of her face looked too much like what he saw in the mirror.

---

It ended just as any other play--the curtain fell, the crowd cheered, the lights went up, and the cast came onstage in groups for their last bits of applause. First the minor characters, then the more major characters, then the musical talents, and lastly, the stars. Arnold and Helga, exhausted yet still beautiful, beamed at the audience and waved as their supporting cast lined up beside them, Isabella included. She stood on Arnold's right and clasped his hand; smiled genially under the blinding stage lights. He glanced sideways at her and nodded, signifying the time to take their final bow. She sucked in her breath and bent over in sync with the line and rose back up again to hear even louder whoops and hollers, then followed Arnold offstage, feeling light on her feet.

"Wow, that was…awesome," she exhaled, practically floating over to her vanity mirror.

"Yeah, _awesome_," Helga grunted, stomping over to her chair. She reached behind herself and tugged at the ribbons of her corset dress in an attempt to undo them, scrunching her nose up in frustration. "Woulda been even _more_ awesome if I didn't have to wear this lousy piece of--"

"Do you want me to untie that for you?" Isabella asked hurriedly, noting the strain on the blonde's face. Helga didn't have time to answer; the brunette had already turned her around by the mirror and pulled the corset off. It had been so tight around her ribs that she wondered how Helga could've possibly breathed, let alone projected her voice while trapped in it.

When freed, Helga let out a gasping breath and collapsed into her chair, fanning herself with one of the stage programs. "Thanks for that."

"No problem," she returned, shooting her a grin. She loosened the straps of her dress and picked up a cloth and bottle of baby oil and began to dab at her face, but Helga yelped.

"Hold up there, sister," she snapped, making Isabella freeze in place. She cupped her hands over her mouth and coughed before she went on, "Keep that make up on; we gotta go out there and greet everyone!"

Isabella felt her face drain a bit. "Oh--I forgot about that, sorry. I guess I'm just in such a rush to go home and chill so--"

"Yeah, yeah," Helga cut her off, "aren't we all? Let's just hurry up and get it over with. Sooner we say thanks to everyone in sight, sooner we can get outta here."

The blonde started towards the doors as Isabella hesitantly followed, reaching to grasp her arm for attention, but pulling back. As they neared the exit, Isabella nervously muttered, "Helga, I was--hoping I could talk to you, though, before we leave."

She expected the scoff that flared from Helga's throat. "Can it _wait_, kid?"

"I don't think so, Helga," Isabella admitted, wringing her hands. "I need to talk to you tonight--Arnold, too."

"Arnold?" Helga repeated, eyes flashing in sudden interest. "What're you--"

"It's about my brother," she said quietly, feeling a lump form at the base of her throat. "Robbie."

"What about--"

"I can't say it now," she hastened, laying a hand on Helga's arm. "Just--promise me you'll meet up with me before you leave the school, okay? And bring Arnold."

"Whatever it is," Helga started, eyeing her suspiciously, "why's it gotta be tonight?"

"Because the sooner I tell you," Isabella began, "the sooner we can get it done."

---

Arnold's hands felt slimy and rubbery from the sweat of his cast mates and the crushing warmth from the handshakes of the evening's spectators. He shook his fingers and cracked his knuckles as he watched the last groups of people exit the hallways; the remaining cast and crew members rush in and out of the auditorium to retrieve equipment and make sure all the lights were turned off. He nodded his head at those that passed, returning the phrases "good show tonight" and "great job, buddy" and scanning the hall for his grandparents, but they were already heading out to the Packard. He picked up his duffel bag and was starting towards one of the exit doors when someone seized him by the shoulders.

"Whoa, hey, what--!"

"Sorry, Football Head, but you gotta come _this_ way," said a disgruntled Helga, who moved her grip to his arm and pulled him in the opposite direction.

"Helga, what--"

"Your dear friend _Isabella's_ got something she wants to talk to us about," she barked, leading him towards a broom closet.

"In _here_?" he asked, wide-eyed. "About wh--"

"About her charming _brother_," she said bitterly, opening the little door. A hanging bulb cast a light on Isabella, who appeared pale and anxious. She stepped backward to make room for the two blondes and shut the door behind them as they squeezed inside.

"Isabella, what--" Arnold started, but she cut him off.

"Arnold, I'm sorry, but you guys have to hear this right now," she gabbled, weaving her eyebrows together.

"What's up with Robbie?" Arnold asked quickly, before she could go on.

"Don't tell us he attacked another chick," Helga groaned, crossing her arms.

"No, he hasn't--not yet," she answered shakily.

"Yet?" Arnold repeated, nearly squeaking.

"Whatcha mean, _yet_?" Helga snapped, eyes widening.

"I was thinking a lot lately," she started, her voice trembling, "that I need to do something about Robert. That I can't--just sit back and watch my brother become a monster."

Helga fixated her gaze on a ball of dust in the corner and muttered something about Robbie Fin already _being_ a monster, but Isabella continued.

"So I came up with a plan to get him convicted."

"_What_?" Arnold and Helga blurted together.

"It's…" the brunette bit at her lip and shook her head, then went on, "kinda crazy, and you probably aren't gonna like it, but I know it'll work for sure."

"What is it?" Arnold asked, searching her eyes.

"We set him up," she answered simply, her irises darkening drastically.

"Set him up?" Arnold repeated, thinking the worst, and Helga verbalized his thoughts.

"You mean--throw him some bait and he catches it," Helga started plainly. "Give him a girl to play with and she rats him out."

"Yes," she answered. "Exactly."

Helga looked interestedly at Arnold, who immediately shook his head and hands in disproval. "No, _no_, that's a really dangerous, _bad_ idea; putting an innocent girl up to _that_?"

"It won't be hard," Helga said in Isabella's favor. "All we gotta do is find a girl willing to get boned by him and then lie and say it was rape, it'll be a piece of pie!"

"No, no _way_!" Arnold protested, looking at each girl apprehensively. "That's just…_wrong_, we can't ask some girl to _do_ that!"

"It won't be just _some_ girl," Isabella told him, her voice lowering. "I already have someone in mind…and she'll do anything to make it okay."

"Who are you talking about?" Arnold asked instantly, immediately worrying that she was thinking of Helga, who looked extremely ill at ease at his side.

Isabella shot Helga an anxious look and then focused on Arnold. "Me."

Helga's jaw might've hit the floor had it not been correctly attached to her skull; Arnold swayed on the spot, convinced that the tiles under his feet had been pulled out from under him, but they were still perfectly in tact. He glanced at Helga, who was now laughing hollowly, feeling a turning in his stomach so severe he was sure he was going to vomit.

"No, no, no," Helga started between laughs, waving her hands in denial. "No, you gotta be…you're kidding. You can't be for real."

"I _am_ for real," she said brazenly, unblinking.

"Izzy, no…you aren't serious, are you?" Arnold asked, swallowing whatever it was he felt rising up his throat.

Isabella was frozen in place, her face like stone. Only her lips moved as she replied, "I am completely serious, Arnold."

Arnold licked his lips, feeling a heat behind his eyes as he blinked several times. "Izzy--Izzy this isn't right, you can't just--no, this is not a good idea, he's--"

"My brother," she finished for him, batting her eyes quickly as she heaved in a breath. "Yes. Which is why _I_ have to do this."

"Izzy, he's your _brother_," Helga said, mouth twisting in disgust. "You're not gonna let your own brother--_twin_ brother…"

"It's the right thing to do," she said defensively, her voice nearly inaudible now.

"No, Izzy, I think you're confused," Arnold said hurriedly, finding it slightly difficult to breathe. "Bringing him to justice is the right thing to do, yes, but--setting him up to _rape_ you?"

Isabella bit at the inside of her cheek and stared at the wall between the blondes, blinking slowly. Her fingers twitched at her side.

"You want him to stop hurting girls, you want him in jail," Arnold started calmly, trying to talk her out of it, "but letting him take advantage of you isn't the right way to do it; it's not safe, it's not healthy! Not for either of you!"

"There's no other way, Arnold," Isabella told him, glancing at his face for just a moment. "I have to do this."

"No, you don't," Arnold said steadily, moving towards her, reaching for her hand. He hesitated and glanced at Helga, who put a hand to her forehead. "You don't have to, Izzy. We--we can find another way, we can--"

"No, we can't, Arnold, you don't understand," she said fiercely. "I am _going_ to do this, and you have to help me, because you know there's no other way right now and he has to go as soon as possible, before someone else gets hurt!"

Wrinkles etched on Arnold's forehead as he knitted his eyebrows together, trying to think of something to say that would change her mind, but she kept going.

"Lila Sawyer is having his baby, Arnold," she almost whispered, tears dropping onto her chest. "That wouldn't have happened if I would've done something when I should have, and now I have plans and opportunities to make it right. I _have_ to make it right, Arnold, for Lila, for Sadie, for all the girls he hurt."

Helga breathed slowly, eyeing the chocolate-haired girl sympathetically. She unfolded her arms and looked knowingly at Arnold; he could tell she agreed. Maybe not with her method of choice, but with everything else. He sighed.

"I'm finally angry enough with him to stand up against him," she admitted, sounding almost afraid of her own sudden boldness. "I'm not gonna defend him anymore. I wanna fight. I wanna do the right thing."

Arnold looked at Helga for help, but all he got from her was a shrug and a wave of hands. He groaned and refocused on Isabella, whose face was now dark with mascara tears.

"Please, let me do the right thing."

---

A/N: Just a heads-up, this fic is going to be rated M by the next chapter.


	22. Twenty Two

**Thanks everyone, for reading and especially for reviewing. This is the last bit of buildup til the big climax--well, one of the big climaxes. It's basically all downhill from here on. Or uphill, in the readers' case, because the drama is always entertaining. Anyway, please enjoy. :]**

**Dis-claym-urr**: All things Hey Arnold belong to Craig Bartlett, blah blah blah

**Chapter 22**: An Ever-So Serious Hero Complex

---

Crackles and pops spurted up the chimney as the fireplace roared in the Sawyer household, barely heard under the Christmas tunes blaring through the stereo mixed with the laughter of Lila and her boyfriend, Eddie Gordo. It was December 17th, Lila's sixteenth birthday, a relatively quiet evening with the only celebration being a generous steak dinner and a walk around the city park to see the holiday lights. The couple had returned to the Sawyers' for a light cheesecake dessert and coffee at nearly nine o' clock, and after three slices Lila's father announced that he had a little surprise for her.

"All right, before I head to bed," he started, making no attempt to suppress his grin, "I've got one special present for you, pumpkin."

Lila looked at Eddie incredulously, then shook her head at her father. "Oh, Daddy, you shouldn't have."

"No, no, trust me, I should've," he told her, winking, and then motioned for her and Eddie to follow him to the garage.

Eddie looked warily at Lila, who lifted her eyebrows in anxiety. They passed through the kitchen and as her father opened the door to the garage, she wondered if she was getting her hopes up by thinking that the surprise was something with four wheels and a radio.

She wasn't.

"Happy birthday, pumpkin!" her father hollered, flicking the lights on to reveal a small, shiny green vehicle. Lila sucked in her breath, swearing her baby kicked inside her as she hurried over to the car, hardly believing it was actually there.

"It's a Volkswagen Rabbit," Mr. Sawyer said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Nineteen ninety-eight model, but it's got great mileage. Good on gas. I wasn't sure if you'd like it in green, but--you wear that color a lot, so..."

Lila felt her cheeks glowing as she ran a hand along the side of the car, peering in the windows and admiring the beige interior and the shiny hubcaps. It was a great size, had four doors, and looked humble and reliable.

"You like it?"

Lila turned and scurried over to her father and hugged him around the waist. "I love it, Daddy."

"Great," he said, patting her head. "Just--promise me you'll be careful, all right? And don't drive too far. Stay within city limits, always, understand?"

"Yes, Daddy," she said, still beaming.

"And don't let anyone else drive it, okay?" he said sternly, but glanced at Eddie and added, "Eddie's okay. But no one else, all right?"

She let herself giggle. "All right, Daddy. Thank you _ever_ so much, it's adorable."

Mr. Sawyer grinned proudly at the Rabbit. "Yeah--it's a beauty, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's a nice car," Eddie agreed, folding his arms as he studied it.

"Glad you like it, pumpkin," Mr. Sawyer said, planting a kiss on his little girl's forehead. "I'm gonna hit the hay. Don't stay up too late, now."

"I won't, Daddy," Lila told him, meaning it.

"And make sure Eddie gets home before eleven; I don't want John calling at one and asking if you've gone to the hospital."

"Okay, Daddy," she giggled again, watching him go back inside. When the door shut, she turned to her boyfriend and grasped his hand. "Want to go for a drive?"

---

"We can't let her do this."

Helga finally met Arnold's eyes after sitting by him on the sofa in silence for nearly an hour. He had been so fixated on the blank screen of the television that one would think a program was actually showing, and Helga said nothing to break his concentration. She knew what he was thinking about; for the past two nights, it was all _she_ could think about, too. She just didn't wanna talk about it. But now that she was seeing the darkness swirl into the green of his irises, she knew she had to.

"Arnold…"

"It's a terrible idea, Helga," he said, frustrated, resting his elbows on his knees. "It's dangerous and awful and--_wrong_, Helga, it's just _wrong_; you're not supposed to…_do that _with your family!"

"Criminey, I _know_, geez!" she yelped, shifting in her seat. "But _how_ are we gonna talk her out of it? She's even more stubborn and persistent than _you_ are."

Arnold ran a hand through his unruly blonde hair and over his mouth, clearly still deep in thought. "I don't know. I don't even know."

"Maybe…" Helga fell back against the couch and drew her knees up to her chest. Pulling her ponytail out, she fiddled with the ribbon and went on, tentatively, "Maybe we should just…ya know, stay out of it."

Arnold snapped up. "What?"

"You heard me!" she said defensively, dropping her legs. "It's _her_ business, after all, isn't it? Why should _we_ throw ourselves in the midst of it?"

A ferocious shadow darkened in his eyes as he quickly answered, "Because Isabella is putting herself in _danger_, Helga, and I care about what happens to her."

"She's doing the right thing, _Arnoldo_, by giving her twin a one-way ticket to the hot-house!" she tossed back viciously.

"The right thing, but the _wrong_ way!" he argued, edging closer to her. "Helga, there's a difference between making a sacrifice and making a big _mistake_, and if she goes through with this, she'll be scarred--forever!"

Helga wet her lips and turned to stare at the blank TV, fiddling with her ribbon again as she felt the blood heating under her skin. Arnold's eyes were still fixed on her; she felt them, wide and unblinking, desperate to get his point across.

"Sex is something really, really special, Helga, to be shared between people who love each other, for _good_ reasons, like--like fun, and--babies," he said shakily, obviously cautious about the subject. Helga tried her best to cover the snort. "Not for--power, or--or revenge."

She lowered her gaze and stared down at the ribbon entwined about her fingers.

"I know you must understand that," he went on, a little more collected now. "Robbie uses sex as a _weapon_; he makes it a terrible, dangerous thing. He makes it something to be afraid of. If Isabella uses it the same way against him, then…she's gonna have a stained interpretation of it for as long as she lives."

Helga turned back to him, eyes light with understanding. She bit her lip as she studied his face; the light of the snow from outside the windows danced across his cheeks and neck. She saw the hurt there, as his chest rose and fell heavily, knowing that if it were Phoebe or Rhonda making a decision like this, she'd want to step in too. As give-or-take as she was with Isabella, no one deserved to doom themselves to such a fear. Like Arnold said, sex was a special thing--no one should be afraid of such an act of love. She exhaled sharply.

"I still don't think it's our place to stop her, Arnoldo," she admitted dismayingly. "I guess I _kinda _care about what happens to her too, but--what can we do? We can't possibly understand what she's going through, or what those other girls have gone through--"

There was a sudden twitch in Arnold's expression that seemed to have rippled to the rest of his body; his knees jerked and his fingers fumbled up over his face back up to his hair, where he tugged at his locks as if trying to pull an idea out of them.

"Lila!"

"_Li_la?" Helga repeated, half-confused and half-dreading.

"She's the one!" Arnold exclaimed, pouncing up from the sofa. He began pacing the floor in front of Helga, his mouth twisting between smiles and bites at the lip. "That's it, we have to tell Lila about Izzy's plan and then she'll persuade her to back down, it's perfect! They're already kinda-sorta friends, and Lila's reasonable, and charming, and honest--"

"And manipulative, and deceitful," Helga added, droning. Arnold ignored her.

"--and she'll talk her out of it, it's just too easy!" Arnold gushed, seemingly awed at himself.

Helga rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Great idea, _Einstein_, but how you gonna get Lila to do your bidding, huh?"

Arnold's face fell as he shrank back onto the couch, clearly considering this point. Helga huffed and then said, "I'm not really sure you should bug Lila with this, _Arnoldo_. She's got a bun in the oven, for Pete's sake; why would she bother helping her rapist's _sister_?"

Arnold looked at her heatedly. "You know Izzy had nothing to do with--"

"Yeah, but _think_, Arnold," she snapped, pointing a finger, "Isabella could've been a bit more helpful to Lila when this mess _started_!"

"Which is exactly _why_ Izzy wants to do this, Helga!" Arnold argued viciously, thinking that he had it all together, but he was missing her point. "She wants to redeem herself!"

"Well _doi_, but what makes you think Lila would _let_ her?!" she almost hollered. "Why would she wanna help her when Izzy did absolutely _nothing _when it _mattered_?"

He pressed his lips together into a hard, thin line and visibly swallowed, heeding her words and failing to retaliate with more reasons. He knew she was right on this; he had to have realized it, but he was so damn persistent and stubborn that he would go with his gut anyway. He rose up from the couch and huffed, rubbing his temples.

"I'm not trying to shoot you down, Arnold, honestly," she admitted, trying to sound gentle despite her frustration. "I'm really not…And I'm not trying to defend _Li_la or anything, either--I just want you to see the reality here."

She got up from her seat too, and followed him towards the doorway. He was biting his lip as he zipped up his winter coat, clearly annoyed at his defeat.

"You can't fix it," she told him, enforcing it, wanting him to hear it. "As much as you wanna--you can't."

Arnold locked eyes with her, the shadows finally absent from his. There were only glints of disappointment and hopelessness now, spinning into the green and gold. God only knew how much it broke her to see him so upset, to see him fall from his pedestal of hope, especially since she was the one who pushed him off, but it was necessary. It was high time he accepted that there were just some things he couldn't mend, some problems he couldn't solve--some people he couldn't help. He wouldn't be able to and he wasn't supposed to. As he bid her goodnight and she watched him trek down the snowy streets alone, she figured he already knew this, but to Arnold, everything was always worth a try. He wasn't going to give up until his plans exploded in his face.

---

Rhonda picked a bad night to choose to walk home from Curly's instead of calling Sherman to pick her up. It wasn't snowing, but the wind was harsh and the temperature had dropped well below freezing over the past few days. She wasn't wearing much beneath her red pea coat, but she wanted to brave the walk anyway. Since the break from school had begun, Rhonda had gained a couple of pounds, so she decided she could suffer fifteen minutes of the wintry air biting at her neck if it kept her legs from flabbing. Besides, she didn't live _that_ far from Curly, and Victoria's old house was on the way.

When Rhonda came up to the black fence, she squinted, examining the front porch from the sidewalk. Harold was nowhere in sight and Rhonda was alarmed to find that this mildly disappointed her, but the front door suddenly creaked open and out he came, zipping up his jacket and adjusting his beanie cap. She was a good ten feet away, and there was a great chance that the cold could have been to blame, but Harold's face looked beet red, tear-stained, and exhausted. He had great lines in his forehead and snot dripped from his nose. His obnoxious sniffles struck her with inexplicable worry and she felt herself rushing down the entrance path to greet him. Harold wiped his face frantically as he saw her jogging towards him, clearly embarrassed about his current state.

"Harold!" she cried out as she got closer to the stoop. He winced as she clamored up the steps, huffing and puffing.

"Harold," she said again, quieter this time, "what's wrong? Why are you--crying?"

"I'm not _crying_," he denied gruffly, wiping his eyes even more. He gave one last loud sniffle and shook his head. "What makes you think I'm crying?"

"Well, for one, your face is red as hell," she started plainly, "and your eyes are totally bloodshot."

"Well it's cold as _balls_ out here!" he snapped defensively, pulling mittens over his hands.

Rhonda shifted her gaze and frowned. "Harold, if something happened, you can--"

"Cupcake _died_!" he shouted, tears bursting onto his cheeks.

Rhonda's heart sank. "Oh…Thirsten…"

"Cupcake was fine yesterday, playing with his--his little rubber veterinarian and his catnip ball," Harold blubbered, looking absolutely pitiful as he wiped the snot that dripped onto his mouth. "And th-then today I came here and he was--curled up in a little b-ball and he didn't m-m-move!"

"Oh, Harold…" Rhonda muttered, unaware of what to say. She hadn't seem him act like this since fourth grade, when he'd cracked and eaten their egg child.

"So yeah, I _was_ crying, okay? Cuz that _stupid_ cat had to go d-die on me! So _crucify_ me, okay?" he sniveled. He thrust his hands into his pockets and pushed past her, but she grasped his shoulder to turn him around.

"Harold, it's okay, it's okay to cry," she tried to reassure him, offering a weak smile. He gulped and sniffled.

"R-really?"

Rhonda flashed her teeth and nodded. "Yeah, of course. Crying is very therapeutic--it takes a real man to cry, you know."

Harold seemed very comforted by this, but tears were still streaming down his pink face.

"Do you--want me to walk you home, or something?" she asked, surprised by the sound of her voice. It sounded like it had come from someone else. It had to have; Rhonda didn't talk this way, not to Harold Berman.

To her relief, he politely declined. "Nah--thanks, but I kinda just…wanna be alone right now."

She nodded vigorously, tightening her coat around her neck. "Right, that's okay. I--I guess I'll see you around, Harold."

"Yeah," he said after taking a deep breath. "Bye Rhonda."

She smiled awkwardly and turned on her heel, in total awe of herself. She was quick in her steps as she took off in the opposite direction of the boy, but found herself glancing back over her shoulder more than twice. Rhonda shook inside her coat, hoping that it was just something in the air today that had made her go wonky.

---

"Whipped cream?"

"Oh, no thanks."

"Marshmallows?"

"Nah, that's okay."

"How about a cookie?"

"Thanks, Lila, but I'm good, really."

"Well, if you're sure. Just tell me if you change your mind, okay?"

Arnold nodded and tossed her a smile, leaning over in his seat as he sipped the fresh hot cocoa. "Right, thanks Lila."

She smiled back, taking a long time to sit down in her chair. With her growing belly, he guessed it was growing hard for her to do such simple things.

It finally hit him that day, only two days before Christmas, that Lila Sawyer was definitely having a baby. Seeing her tired eyes and rotund middle made it so much more real, somehow. She couldn't bend over or walk fast and she hadn't seen her feet in weeks, and after Arnold had sat at her dinner table with her for an hour talking about it, he was starting to debate on whether or not his idea was a good one after all. He rubbed his temples, unaware of how loud he was breathing as he pondered this inner dilemma.

"So what's going on, Arnold?" she asked interestedly, to his dismay, stirring the contents of her mug absent-mindedly. "I know you didn't drop by just to say hello."

He huffed; he should've known. Lila knew him a lot better than he thought; beating around the bush was totally pointless now. Rather than stall and embarrass himself, he decided just to roll with it. Now or never, he guessed.

"Listen, Lila, I really, _really_ hate to bother you, but there's something I really think you should know," he began hesitantly, wringing his hands together. "Something I really hope you can help with."

She said nothing, just stared expectantly at him, obviously clueless as to what it could possibly be. Oh, surely she would never see this one coming. Arnold cleared his throat and fidgeted in his chair, wondering how on earth to word the news. The whole thing was so outrageous he didn't know if she'd even believe him, but he could hope.

"It's--about Isabella," he continued, breathing shallowly. "I don't know if you know this, but--she really blames herself for--what happened to you."

Lila continued stirring her cocoa, but her gaze was now fixed on the floor.

"She's convinced herself that she'll feel better if she puts her brother in jail," he went on, taking a short sip from his mug. Lila looked up.

"I'm ever so sure that the rest of us would, too."

"Well--yeah," he agreed, but added feebly, "but she has a really whacked-out plan to do it."

"What do you mean?" she asked attentively.

Arnold wet his mouth; for some reason he had trouble meeting her eyes, so he just focused on his coffee mug as he said plainly, "She's planning on setting Robbie up to rape her."

Lila blinked several times, weaving her fingers together, so still that she must have forgotten to breath for a few moments, but then laughed loudly, hollowly, obviously thinking it was some kind of joke. She wheezed, collecting herself, and then cleared her throat, grasping her coffee mug. Before she sipped, she asked, "Arnold…you're saying Isabella is planning to sleep with her brother and then accuse him of rape? Is that what you're telling me?"

He furrowed his brow, disproving of her tone. "Yes, Lila, that's exactly what I'm telling you."

The redhead took a long sip and smacked her lips, the laughter gone from her face. "Arnold, I'm ever so certain that this is far too ridiculous to be--"

"True?" he finished for her, throwing his elbows on the table. "Yeah, Lila, I know it's crazy, but that's why I'm telling you, because she's crazily serious."

Lila's fingers danced along the side of her mug idly as she gave another empty giggle. "She can't be."

"She is!" Arnold argued. "She is, totally and completely--"

"But whatever are you telling _me_ for?" Lila asked unnervingly, suddenly defensive.

Arnold's eyes widened. "Because, she's doing it for _you_! She feels so guilty about not having turned him in before and now she's gonna go to drastic measures to make up for it!"

"It's true," Lila said off-handedly. "She should have turned him in a long time ago…"

"I know," Arnold said sympathetically, his voice dropping down a few notches. "I know. We all agree on that; something should have been done a long while ago, but Lila--if we let her do this now, she could get seriously hurt; she's gonna scar herself for life if--"

"Arnold," she cut him off, locking her eyes on his. "What do you think _I_ can do about this?"

He swallowed. Blinking quickly, he answered, "You--you're the only one I think she'll listen to…"

Lila gave an exasperated sigh and put a hand to her forehead, leaning with her elbow on the table. Arnold scratched at his neck apprehensively, instantly feeling bad. He _did_ send her on a bit of a guilt trip, but how else was he going to convince her to help?

"I'm sorry, Lila," he said gently, biting at his lip. "But--she's my friend, and…I can't do anything about it, but you can, I know you can. So…"

Lila met his gaze again, misty-eyed and more tired-looking than he'd ever seen her, but still he pushed. He would beat himself up for pestering a pregnant girl later; now he had to make sure the right thing would be done.

"Please, I know she's your friend and you care about her…I know she wasn't much help to you before but…please, Lila, don't let her do this…"

Lila pursed her lips and closed her eyes, tilting her head back slowly like she was getting lost in her thoughts. She breathed deeply, brought her head back, and blinked at him slowly, giving him a slight smile.

"You have an ever so serious hero complex, Arnold," she cooed, shaking her head.

The blonde's mouth twitched in an awkward smile as he shrugged. "I just can't sit back and watch a disaster happen."

"I'll spend some time with her and see what I can do," she told him sweetly, solidly; he knew she meant it.

His chest felt lighter as he breathed and rose up from his chair. "Thanks, Lila."

"Would you like me to walk you to the door?" she asked, noting his body language.

"Nah, it's okay, I know the way out," he said, grinning.

"Okay then," she said, and added, "I'll give her a call after you leave."

Arnold felt his eyes light up as he thanked her again. "Thanks, Lila, it really means so much."

"I know," she said, flashing a smile. "Have a good night, Arnold. And since I won't make it to Rhonda's party tomorrow--have a Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Lila," he returned, and disappeared into the entrance hall.

---

A/N: This fic will have an M rating the next time you find it updated.


	23. Christmas, Part One

**Next chapter. I know, FINALLY. School's super hectic and I've had other things that I've been paying attention to. I was gonna post this yesterday, but I got caught up in some real-life crap. BUT NOW, here it is--I'm sorry for sucking; I love you all; forgive me--hugs and kisses~**

**Dis-claym-urr**: My name is definitely not Craig Bartlett.

**Chapter 23**: So This is Christmas, and What Have We Done? Part One

---

Arnold downed a fourth glass of egg nog as he watched Gerald examine himself in the mirror. He swallowed so hard he almost made himself choke; knitting his eyebrows together in frustration. With a grunt, he checked his watch for the twentieth time in five minutes.

"Whenever you're ready, Gerald."

Gerald cocked his eyebrows at the blonde, adjusting his tie. "I'm getting there, I'm getting there--what you gotta be so touchy for?"

Arnold sighed exasperatedly and scratched at his collarbone. "Sorry, Gerald, I just…I'm just really anxious about the whole Izzy ordeal…"

"You talked to her about it?" he asked, half-interested.

"No, I…kinda made Lila do it," Arnold admitted guiltily, walking over to Gerald's full-length mirror. He sighed at his reflection, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

Gerald noticed too, because he said, "Man, you gotta stop working yourself up over it, it's making you look as bad as you feel."

"Thanks for your concern," Arnold offered sarcastically, rubbing his temple. "I just…I dunno. Lila told me that Izzy isn't gonna do anything, but--it seemed kinda fishy to me."

"Fishy like how?"

"Like--neither of them are going to the party tonight."

"Oh," Gerald said, disappointed. "What's so fishy about that?"

"What if she lied to me, Gerald?" Arnold asked breathily, worry lighting up his eyes. "What if they're staying home on purpose and plotting to--"

"Arnold," Gerald stopped him, "you do realize how paranoid you sound right now, don't you?"

Arnold swallowed visibly and smacked his lips, figuring his best friend was definitely right, but wasn't about to say so out loud.

"Izzy and Rhonda don't care much for each other, so it's no surprise _she's_ not going," Gerald started, trying to put him at ease, "and Lila _told_ you she wasn't gonna go--she's pregnant, for Christ's sake, why would she wanna spend her Christmas Eve with a bunch of drunk teenagers?"

Arnold sighed. He did have a point; he always did. He really didn't give Gerald enough credit; sometimes he really was the voice of reason. He smiled softly.

"Yeah. You're right."

"I know," Gerald said smoothly, winking at himself in the mirror. "Now come _on_, man, straighten up, smile--it's practically _Christmas_! Time to appreciate the _good_ things."

---

He wanted to go to the party. He really did. He wanted to dance and drink with his friends and pound on the freshmen that decided to try and crash the shindig, but he just wasn't up to it. He couldn't bring himself to get off the couch and pull on his dress slacks. He wanted to see Rhonda, to talk to her, to tell her how nicely that Dior holiday dress complimented her slender legs, but all he could think about was that cat.

That damn, stupid cat. Thirsten. Cupcake. Whatever. He called it by both names, plus a couple of other ones he'd made up, like Little T; C-Dog; Tiger; Scat Cat. Harold chuckled to himself as he flipped the channel. Scat Cat. He only called him that when he'd miss the litter box.

Sighing, he sank farther into the couch, pawing at the empty space next to him; having forgotten that the feline wasn't there to pet anymore. He drew his hand back and blinked away tears.

---

_It's the most wonderful time of the year._

Andy Williams' voice blared through the speakers as Helga shook the hair out of her eyes and poured herself some apple cider. She came to Rhonda's thirty minutes late on purpose, so that she wouldn't have to wait around on pins and needles for Arnold to show up, but she didn't get so lucky. It was over an hour into the festivities and the Football Head was still nowhere in sight. Aggravated, she downed the cider and parked herself on a chair in the back of the living room.

_Where are you? _She began typing on her phone, but Phoebe came rushing at her.

"Arnold and Gerald are here!" she breathed, her hair bouncing about her shoulders.

Scoffing, Helga flew up from her chair and practically sprinted back into the spare room with the refreshments.

"_Finally_ you decide to show up," she snapped, glaring at Arnold.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Helga," he said sharply, narrowing his gaze.

Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes. "Sorry, I was just--" she grabbed his arm and dragged him over to an empty corner and lowered her voice, adding, "--considering the _circumstances_, I figured you were doing something _stupid_--what took you so long?"

Arnold sighed heavily, looking exasperated. "I made Gerald drop by Izzy's house before we came here."

Helga lowered her eyelids. "_Seriously_, Arnoldo?"

"Look, I'm worried; she's home alone--her aunt is helping out at the homeless shelter until Saturday and no one knows where Robbie is!" he told her anxiously, worry gleaming in his eyes.

"So what the hell do you wanna _do_ about it?" she asked fervently, nearly spilling her drink.

He ran a hand over his mouth and shook his head. "I don't know, Helga, I'm just really, really unnerved; it's too dodgy--"

"Arnold," she started sternly, pointing a finger at his nose, "we went over this. It's not your place to--"

"Helga, I can't just sit back and let something bad happen," he argued, whispering.

Grunting, she raised her eyebrows along with her voice. "Arnold, you need to stop worrying about shit that doesn't concern you or else you're gonna get yourself into some deep trouble!"

Arnold groaned impatiently and started to turn away, saying, "Helga, you just don't understand; I can do something to help--"

"Like what?" she prompted, crossing her arms. "Seriously, Arnold, like what? What're you gonna do, stuff her in your house and keep an eye on her twenty-four seven?"

He glanced all around the room, releasing anxious breaths until he finally just looked at her, pleadingly. "Helga, if there was some way you could--"

"What?" she interrupted, arching an eyebrow. "What, Arnold? Is this the part where you guilt trip me into playing a part in your scheme?"

She saw his throat slither as he swallowed hard, his face crumpled in seeming defeat. He didn't blink as he wet his lips, clearly thinking of some way to argue, but Helga wasn't going to give him the chance.

"Look, _Arnoldo_," she started menacingly, poking his chest as she backed him into the corner, "I don't know what makes you believe I'm incapable of saying '_no_' to you, but that line of thinking stops _here_--and _now_--" she had him up against the wall now, her fists clenched in his shirt-- "because whatever you're planning on doing, I'm _not_ gonna be a part of it. Whatever that bimbo wants to do with her pathetic life is none of _my_ beeswax, and I'm not helping anybody make a _bigger_ mess of it. If _you_ want to, _fine_. Have _fun_. Just don't bring me down with you."

Her grip on his button-down loosened and she stormed away, trying with all her might not to care that she had made the boy tear up in total frustration and disappointment.

---

The entire evening wound up being rather bittersweet; Arnold spent the remainder of the party sitting by the pool table, watching Gerald and Phoebe flirt like their plane was going down and listening to Peapod Kid and Park chatter about how excited they were about going to Puerto Rico the following morning. He tried several times over to act cheerier, especially in front of Rhonda (who would flip her lid if she saw any one of her guests being a "party-pooper"), but he just wasn't feeling it at all. It didn't even seem like Christmas to him, not with so much to worry about. He didn't speak to Helga for the rest of that night (she had gone home no less than an hour after their "talk") and that wasn't helping his mood either, so finally he decided to call it a night and take his leave. He said goodnight and Merry Christmas to Gerald, Phoebe, and Rhonda (he didn't really feel up to talking to anyone else) and bundled up for a lonely walk back to the boarding house.

---

247 Sassafras. Or was it 248?…No, it was 247. Sawyer was written on the mailbox--in little gold letters. Helga snorted, reminding herself of why she needed to be there, why she needed to talk to Little Miss Not-So-Perfect--to Lila. _Li_la. The one person one earth Helga absolutely could not stomach was the one person she needed most right now.

Funny how the universe makes sense out of that.

The blonde shivered on the stoop, wringing her hands in the pockets of her coat as she wavered on her decision to ring the doorbell. Biting at her lip, she squeezed her eyes shut, thinking of how she was going to just go home and cry if she didn't seek the right kind of condolence, and decided that talking to Lila was better than throwing up from being so emotional. So she rang the doorbell.

The redhead swung it open, a look of total shock washing over her face as she recognized the face of her visitor. She went so pale that even her freckles turned white.

"H-Helga?"

"Hi," she muttered, pulling the scarf off around her mouth.

Lila glanced around worriedly, rubbing her stomach with her right hand. "Helga, this--this--"

"Is crazier and more unexpected than that time we locked lips at Rhonda's sleepover?" Helga finished humorously, forcing a grin. Lila relaxed a little, her cheeks pinking slightly as she smiled. "Listen tootsie, I need to talk to you, badly. And it's practically Christmas, so you better show some good will toward women and invite me in so I can get this over with."

Lila obliged and pulled her inside, taking her coat and her hat and hanging them up. She watched as Helga shook the fresh snow out of her hair and asked, "Whatever is going on, Helga?"

Helga thought for a moment that she was definitely going to throw up, but sighed and answered the girl with a question. "Can we sit down for this?"

Lila nodded, wide-eyed with worry and curiosity. "Sure, sure, that's ever-so fine, let's--let's go to the kitchen and I'll make you some tea--"

"Make it hot chocolate," Helga corrected her. "And put a lotta marshmallows in it. And not too much cocoa, that shit settles on the bottom and tastes nasty once you're halfway through the mug…"

Lila bustled around the kitchen, anxiously glancing at Helga every few seconds like she was afraid she'd faint or something. Helga settled at the table, rubbing her temples as she went over everything in her mind, trying to figure out where to start and how to roll with it. In a normal situation, Lila's frantic eyes would have drove her up the wall, but this wasn't normal by any means.

She groaned obnoxiously, raking her fingers down her face in frustration as Lila sat down across from her and pushed a steaming mug her way. Helga took it slowly and blew on its surface, subconsciously counting the floating marshmallows.

"Helga." Lila broke the silence. "I don't mean to press, but--what is the matter?"

Her blue eyes locked on Lila's brown ones for a moment before they dropped, staring blankly into the mug. There were thirteen marshmallows in it.

"It's about Arnold," Lila guessed out loud, folding her hands. "Isn't it?"

Falling back in her seat, Helga directed her attention to the window above Lila's sink, fixing her gaze on the flurry of snow outside. She fiddled with the knot of the ribbon around her neck and tapped her foot. With a small laugh, she started talking.

"I just don't get it," she said faintly, pulling at the pink satin. She laughed again, shaking her head. "I just--really don't get this, Lila."

"He's still worried about Isabella," Lila supposed, leaning over the table.

Helga merely nodded. She let a few moments of silence pass, smacking her lips a few times before continuing. "He does this all the time, with everything--he always thinks that there's something he can do to fix it, but this time--for real, this time--there really isn't. There isn't. And I can't make him accept it."

"Did you try talking him out of it?"

She straightened up in her seat, mocking a grin. "Oh, yeah, I tried--made the kid cry for Pete's sake, at Rhonda's party--"

Lila furrowed her brow and asked, "Cry? What did you say?"

Helga glared into her mug and began picking at the marshmallows. "He tried to ask me to help him with--whatever he had planned--and I told him he couldn't bring me down with him anymore."

"He asks for your help a lot," she thought, "doesn't he?"

Helga shrugged, shifting in the chair as she answered, "Yeah, I--guess he does, I'm just…"

"Afraid of why…?"

She looked at her again, finally, seeing the concern deep in the brown of Lila's gaze. Sighing reluctantly, Helga answered her with a nod.

"Helga…" Lila scooted farther up to the table, stretching her hands out on its surface. "I think Arnold is a lot smarter than we give him credit for…"

"Whatta you mean?" Helga asked sourly, popping a marshmallow in her mouth.

"I think he knows, Helga," Lila said slowly, with hesitation. "You never say no to him...if he knows that, he's got to know that you--"

"No," Helga protested, between sips of the cocoa. "He can't know. He's blind as a bat--dumber than a sack of rocks--"

"No, he's not, Helga," Lila corrected her, shaking her head. "If--if someone else were to tell him off like you did tonight, I'm sure he would have just brushed it off. But coming from you, it...means differently."

Helga giggled in denial, chewing on the last marshmallow and washing it down with the cocoa.

"He cares about you, Helga," she said forcefully, grabbing Helga's hand from across the table. Helga set her mug down and stared at her, knowing she should want to yank it away and very alarmed at the fact that she was feeling almost comforted by it. She blinked a few times before Lila spoke again.

"I don't know in what way, but I know that he does," she explained, rubbing her hand with her thumb. "And he deserves to know that you do too."

Sniffling, she willed herself not to cry; she was hardly comfortable with showing Lila Sawyer this much of her, but she guessed she was more than halfway there now. Choked up with the lumps in her throat, she shook her head, but Lila pushed.

"It's got to happen sooner or later, Helga. You've got to tell him."

Her blue eyes fluttered, trying to hold back the tears, but they dripped from the corners, tracing lines down Helga's face. "I'm scared."

Lila pressed her lips together tightly and for a moment Helga thought she was going to cry too, but she just rose from her seat to stand at her side. She stared ahead, dizzy with realization and in her peripheral vision, she saw Lila reach and pull back, wavering in the decision of whether or not to wrap her arm about her shoulder. She didn't know what part of her made her do it, but she grabbed Lila's arm and worked it around her, resting her head on the girl's pregnant belly. Helga wept freely, figuring that if she ever had to explain this, the excessive amount of egg nog would be a valid excuse.

---

Twelve chimes from the grandfather clock told them it was midnight. Robbie chortled mischievously, eyes glinting in the lights from the tree.

"It's officially Christmas," he said appealingly, baring his teeth at his twin.

Isabella swallowed, a bitter taste sliding down her throat as she shifted on the carpet. Probably from the rum. "Yeah, it is."

"You think Aunt Lucy would be mad if we opened a couple presents?" he asked, but Isabella knew he didn't really care. He was going to what he wanted anyway, and she couldn't decide whether or not this was frightening.

"Only the little ones," she told him, reaching for the two smallest gifts under the tree. "She'll hardly notice them."

Robbie took the little green box from her and winked. "Open yours first."

"It's okay," she said, her voice quaking. "You can go first."

"Are you sure?" he tempted, shoving his face in hers.

Wild-eyed, she shook her head and squeaked, "N-no, it's fine. You go."

"If you insist," he said playfully, and began untying the black ribbon. He scratched off the green paper and lifted the lid of the tiny box, revealing an over-sized key. Quizzically, he looked it over and then removed it from its container, weighing it in its hands.

"Heavy," he said, glancing at his sister. "Who'd send me a key?"

"They're from Aunt Lizzie," Isabella said, noting the card on her own gift. "I wonder what it goes to?"

"Beats me. Open yours," he told her, interested.

Carefully, Isabella unwrapped her red box and opened it, taking out a gold chain. A small heart dangled from the end of it with a diamond in its center. Isabella's eyes lit up as she marveled at it, intrigued by its simple beauty.

"Nice," Robbie offered.

"It is!" she cooed, grinning madly. "Oh, I wanna put it on--"

"Here, let me--" Robbie said, moving on the carpet to get behind her. His hands graced the back of her neck, causing goose pimples to rise on her flesh as he fixed the clasp. "There--"

Her brother brushed her hair back with his fingers, beholding the glistening pendant resting on her chest. His bright eyes flickered in the green and red light.

"It's lovely on you."

"Thanks," Isabella breathed, forcing herself to stay locked on his eyes. If she couldn't master that, she couldn't hope to get any further with her plan. "Robbie--"

"Yes?" he asked roughly, inching slightly closer.

"I know I don't tell you this often," she started tentatively, shifting her weight on the carpet. "And--since it is Christmas and this is the--most wonderful time of the year and all that--"

"Uh-huh," he pressed. She tried not to regard the fact that his eyes were traveling down her shirt.

"I--I guess this is the best time to just say--I love you, Robbie," she told him, smiling awkwardly, reaching for his hand. It was warm; not what she expected. "I love you a lot."

He returned the grin, his features softening so that he looked more innocent and handsome than ever. He cupped her cheek and cooed, "I love you too, Isabella, more than anything else in the world."

Hot tears bubbled behind her eyes as she blinked; she hadn't heard him say those words in years, and hearing them now in this moment made her stomach lurch with discouragement. She picked a hell of a time to make this decision.

Her smile stretched out underneath fresh tears as she took his hand off her face and asked, hardly audibly, "Do you mean that?"

Robbie pouted, letting his hand fall to her knee. "Of course I do."

Feeling knots twist low in her belly, she filled her lungs with air and stuck to her guns. She stroked his cheek with the backs of her fingers as her gaze turned from loving to challenging.

"Prove it."

---

_Just do it. Come on, Helga, just effing do it. It's not the first time and it's probably--definitely not gonna be the last, so just suck it up and do it. Grab the phone and find his name and hit the little green button. Piece of cake. Not hard. Do it. Do it, or you're gonna feel awful in the morning, and it's Christmas morning. You don't want your Christmas to suck, do you? So do it. Call him. Apologize. God, I hate apologizing, but I gotta do it. I gotta apologize and I gotta help him…no matter how freakin' crazy this shit is…Dammit_…

Helga flipped her phone open and got to Arnold's name in the contacts before the other half of her brain stopped her. She listened to it ring, coughing and sputtering and willing the tears to stop rolling as she waited for him to answer.

After four rings, he did.

"Helga," he said, sounding very awake for midnight.

"Hey," she said, her voice cracking. "Arnold, listen, I'm--"

"I know," he cut her off, but came in more gently, "I know. It's okay, Helga. I deserved it, really."

"No, Arnold, you don't--"

"No, Helga, really...It was wrong of me to ask you to help me with something you didn't believe in. I really should have more regard to everyone else's feelings…"

"You do, Arnold," Helga assured him, her free hand nervously tangled in her hair. "You already do. I just--I guess I just got sick of watching you tear yourself up over something that you couldn't help, and--I'm--sorry…"

"It's okay Helga," he said again, voice dropping in volume. "But--I still think you're wrong…I still think something can be done."

"Like what?" Helga felt herself ask, sitting upright in her bed.

Arnold coughed, his voice cracking as he replied, "Um--well, I have a couple things in mind, but, why do you wanna know?"

Drawing in a deep breath, Helga mentally hit herself as she confessed, "Because I want to help."

---

They were so close. Face to face, nose to nose, brown eyes to brown eyes. Their eyelashes were nearly touching; she could have counted every freckle spread across his cheek--but she didn't. She parted her lips, welcoming the way his pressed into them, tasting the rum and chocolate they'd shared for dessert only an hour prior. Her arms encircled about his neck as she forced the kiss, twirling her tongue inside his mouth and pretending it wasn't the first time she'd ever done so with another boy. She knew that the fact that she was embracing her twin was making her head spin and her stomach lurch, but she decided to blame it on the spiked egg nog and the guilt.

Guilt, for not having done something sooner; for letting an innocent girl get tangled in a horrendous spider web. Incestuous relations seemed like a petty punishment for allowing Lila Sawyer's life to get shot to hell, so she wrapped her legs about his hips and dug her nails in his back, urging him to take it further. To no surprise, he did.

To no surprise, he took it as far as one could go.

---

"Dammit," Helga spat, shivering inside her coat. She crossed Wood Ave and took a left at the light, heart racing as she approached the Butler apartment complex. Stomping in the snow, she cursed herself, squinting as the wind bit her eyes.

"Helga old girl," she said in her head, "you've done it again; further raising the suspicion by going out on a limb to help him out…God he better be thankful I'm doing this…Hopefully he's too worried about Miss Butter-Cream Pie to ponder my supposed undying love for him…"

The lanky teen trudged through the slush as she entered the parking lot, stepping as lightly as she could so as not to disturb the sleeping tenants. No security lights were on to expose her, thank goodness, so she looked about herself, trying to recall which building Arnold had said the girl lived in.

"Building Six," she breathed, watching her breath swirl in front of her in a little puff of white. "Ah, there…"

Boots clomping on the pavement, Helga swiftly made her way to the biggest complex, scanning the rows of apartments. "Twenty-two, Door Twenty-Two, Door Twent--shit."

The last door on the left; Isabella's. Helga's heart leapt in her throat as she darted for the front window, praying out loud, "Please God, if there's a God, please--please don't let him be in there, please…"

To Helga's fortune, the curtains in the window were pulled back, giving an outsider clear view of the living room. She spotted nothing atypical as her eyes skimmed over the scene: Christmas tree, cluttered coffee table, empty couch, two shadows dancing in the opening to the hallway--

"Oh--shit--"

Helga pressed her face into the freezing glass, examining the open doorway from the corner of the pane. The silhouettes were entwined with one another and a faint thumping against the wall seeped through Helga's ears, poisoning her imagination with nauseating visions.

"No, no, fuck no," she whispered, tightening her grip on the window sill. Fearful tears spilled from her eyes as the shadows emerged from the dark, revealing Isabella in a sickeningly tight embrace with her twin brother.

"Oh my God, Izzy," Helga muttered through her gloved hands. Her face burned as she watched the pair enter the light of the living room, thrashing about like a pair of rabid dogs. The way they bit and tore at each other's skin and clothes, Helga couldn't tell if they were just being rough or if Robbie really was raping her, but either way it had to come to a stop.

Sinking below the window, Helga swallowed, cursing herself for crying a second time one night as she dialed Arnold's number on her phone. He answered on the first ring.

"What's happening?" he asked, completely unnerved.

Helga gulped, her vision blurred with frantic tears as she clutched the phone, trying to drown out the yelps and moans from behind the wall. "Arnold…"

"What?" Arnold prompted, his voice squeaking. "What's wrong? What's happening?"

"Arnold," she sniveled, hugging her knees, "I don't know how to make them stop…"

---

A/N: Hey Arnold apparently has a Wiki site? I just found this out today!


	24. Christmas, Part Two

Next chapter, finally! So sorry to have kept you all waiting again; hopefully it's worth it and I'm not disappointing you too much. xoxo

** Dis-claym-urr**: My name is definitely not Craig Bartlett and I'm most certainly not making any cash off of this.

**Chapter 24**: So This is Christmas, and What Have We Done? Part Two

---

As to why the whole city of Hillwood didn't jolt awake at the screeching sirens, Arnold didn't know. Maybe the whine of the police cars was piercing only to his own ears as he watched a few cops restrain a thrashing Robbie and the paramedics drag a hysterical Isabella into the back of the ambulance. A gentler, calmer looking badge walked up to him and Helga and started asking questions, but his voice seemed too far away to hear. Helga attempted to speak through terrified squeals and sniffles, while Arnold remained fixated on Isabella. She met his gaze from behind the little window with an expression most unreadable. She must have been afraid, obviously, but there was something else etched into the lines of her face that Arnold couldn't recognize. He raked his fingers through Helga's matted hair as the vehicles took off. When their lights were out of sight, the snow began falling silently again and the quiet swept back over the sleepy neighborhood.

---

Elena Hawkins sprang up in her bed. The clock read 12:45 AM; she could see the snow falling gently to the streets outside her window. All seemed plenty calm, but she was totally unsettled. Something just didn't feel right; had she a nightmare? Perhaps, but she couldn't remember whether she dreamt or not, she just had a queasy feeling in her belly. Scrambling out of her sheets, she stepped into her slippers and made her way downstairs for a cup of coffee, mumbling a prayer as her cat followed her.

---

The lights were out in Helga's house, much to her relief. Not that there was a great chance of Bob and Miriam waking up and noticing that she was gone, but she never knew when one of them was going to surprise her with caring, and it was Christmas, after all. She sighed deeply as she and Arnold approached her stoop.

"Thanks for walking me home, Football Head," she offered, voice cracking. She hadn't spoken in over an hour and the crying had made her a bit hoarse.

Arnold smiled very weakly and grabbed her hand. "I wouldn't have let you go alone, not after tonight."

She returned a small grin and let her eyes fall to the ground. There was a heavy feeling in her chest as she wiped the tear stains off her cheeks.

"Helga," he started, shifting on the spot, "I'm really, really sorry for having brought you into this."

Meeting his eyes, she shook her head. For the first time in a while, she meant it when she muttered, "It's okay, Arnold."

"No, it's not okay," he argued, furrowing his brow. He squeezed her hand. "I can't imagine how hard it was to have seen—"

Helga pulled her fingers out of his grasp, feeling her face getting hot as she protested, "No, Arnold, really, it's fine. Let's face it, if it weren't for me, Robbie wouldn't have gotten caught, so…"

Arnold smiled a little wider, in a silent agreement.

"The mental scarring is a small price to pay, I guess," she laughed hollowly, shrugging.

"I'll make it up to you, Helga," he said sweetly. He stepped closer to her on the stoop, close enough to feel her breath on his face. "I promise."

Her pulse quickened as she stared into the green of his eyes. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I plan to keep this one," he said lowly, with confidence. He stared at her solidly, moving slowly closer, but she quickly pulled him in for a hug.

"Sure, whatever you say, Football Head," she told him, squishing their bodies for a moment and then letting him go.

Arnold looked slightly disappointed when they broke away, but he put on another smile. "Merry Christmas, Helga."

"Merry Christmas, Arnold," she returned, and hastily disappeared behind her front door.

---

The snow quieted by sunrise. Eugene opened his eyes to the light of the window, the last of the flurries sweeping the streets. The empty space next to him in the bed told him that Peter was already up, more than likely helping his mother with pancakes and bacon. An aroma of breakfast filled his nose, proving his guess correct. Smiling, he rolled over in the sheets, burying his face in the pillow and breathing in his boyfriend's scent.

A knock on the door made him shake a bit. He threw his head up to look across the room. Peter stood there in his striped pajamas, a spatula in one hand and a little box in the other.

"Merry Christmas, you bum," the blonde boy told him, bright-eyed and fresh-faced.

"Merry Christmas to you too." Eugene sat up in the bed and held out his arms; Peter obliged and settled into his embrace.

"I was gonna make you eat first, before you open any presents, but I just can't wait to give you this," Peter said, putting the box in his hand.

"Oh, Peter, you shouldn't have," Eugene gushed, picking at the ribbon.

"I wanted to," he said. "Now open it."

He did so; unraveled the ribbon and flicked the lid off, revealing a small, silver ring resting on a black pad. Stunned, Eugene eyed it with relish.

"It's a promise ring," Peter explained, his voice lush. "I got a matching one for myself—" he said, waving his left hand, and continued—"so that we're reminded that we always have each other, and I promise to do my best to show you that I care, even when I'm not around."

Misty-eyed, Eugene cupped Peter's face in a trembling hand. "Peter, this is the sweetest thing."

He grinned and pecked him on the mouth. "Think you can keep the promise?"

Eugene slid the silver band onto his finger and nodded. "Definitely."

"Good," Peter chuckled, satisfied. "Let's open the rest of the gifts."

---

Sid blew out cigarette smoke, staring vacantly at his bedroom ceiling, listening to his black cat purr at his feet. He hadn't slept the whole of the night, just smoked and clicked through pictures of himself and Rhonda on his computer. Gerald told him twenty times over to delete them, but instead he sorted them into a secret folder in his documents. When they first broke up, he'd peek at them again and put Alkaline Trio on full blast and cry bitterly—pathetic. But he'd close the window and turn off the stereo and pat his face with Kleenex and pretend he didn't just do that, pretend that it never happened. Any of it. Tears were so tiring and he'd promised himself he wouldn't waste any more time on her.

This Christmas morning, though, Sid went to the computer again. He opened up the Rhonda-folder and stared at a few pictures. Homecoming, campfires, football games. Rhonda and him at the park. Rhonda on his couch with his cat. Rhonda cooking with his dad. Rhonda and him. Him and Rhonda.

Clearing his throat, Sid let the mouse hover over the "delete" option. He heard Gerald's voice in his head, urging him to do it, telling him he needed to let it go, all of it. The regret, the sadness, and the hope, especially. Holding on to the pictures meant holding onto the hope, and there was none of that left. There hadn't been for a while now.

He pressed down to click.

_Are you sure you want to delete this folder and all its contents?_

"Yes." Sid clicked. The photos disappeared. He exited out of his documents and stared at the desktop. Next to Jimi Hendrix's head was the icon for the Recycle Bin. He right-clicked it.

_Are you sure you want to empty the Recycle Bin?_

"Yes." He clicked again. The little virtual can emptied, and Sid's heart did along with it. He took a long drag of the cigarette and turned to face the window. It was still snowing.

---

Breakfast was Harold's favorite part of Christmas morning. Though his family didn't really acknowledge this particular holiday, given that his father was Jewish and his mother agnostic, they made it a special day anyway, just to celebrate the cheer of the season—which was totally fine with Harold. He rose out of bed at nine o' clock sharp, right as the aroma of French toast hit the upstairs hallway.

"Morning, Mom," he yawned, stretching as he strode into the kitchen.

"Harold," she snapped, whipping around from the stove. She donned a pink apron and waved her spatula as she talked. "I have something I need to discuss with you—"

"Wha-at?!" he whined, throwing his hands up. "What'd I do now?"

"Harold I told you once, I told you twenty times, I don't want any filthy and disgusting animals in the house, and what do you do?" she rambled, turning back around to flip a piece of toast. "You bring another one in the house, after I've already said—"

"Whoa, whoa whoa whoa," Harold interrupted, parking himself at the table. "I did not bring anything in the house, what're you talkin' about?"

"I wake up this morning to find a cat in our living room, how do you explain that to me?" she hissed, a hand on her hip.

"I didn't bring any cat in the house! What cat?!" Harold argued, but heard a clawing on the kitchen floor. A small, orange kitten pawed at the bristles of the broom so enthusiastically that it was knocked over.

Mrs. Berman shrieked at the clatter and Harold scooped up the kitten, wondering who in the kingdom of Heaven had sent this little guy down to lift his spirits. The creature purred in his clutch as Harold made way into the living room, where a note rested on the floor below the letterbox. He picked it up with his free hand.

_I found this precious little thing in a box down the street from my house. He seems to have lost his mother, and with you losing something too, I thought you were the right person to bring him to. I know he's not Cupcake, but maybe you will learn to love him just as much. _

_ Have a Merry Christmas, Harold._

_ Rhonda xoxo_

He gulped and crumpled the note in his grasp and hugged the kitten tighter to his chest.

---

_Dammit, I shoulda closed the curtains_…

Helga rolled around in her bed, grunting at the unwanted light entering her room. Her cat whined and pawed at her blonde hair as if she were the annoying little sibling that wanted to drag her out of bed to open presents. Helga groaned and swatted at her.

"Go away, Precious."

As she pulled the sheets over her head, Miriam knocked lightly at her door.

"Helga, sweetie, you awake?"

With a growl, Helga slowly sat up, rubbing her temples. "I am _now_. What time is it, Miriam?"

"It's almost eleven, honey," she answered. "The coffee's still hot. Do you want some breakfast? Your father left you some pancakes."

"Yeah," Helga sighed, tying the sash on her pink robe. She glanced up at her mom and noticed a box in her hand. "Mom."

"Yeah sweetie?" Miriam droned, pushing her glasses up farther on her nose.

"What's that?" she asked, nodding to the object.

Miriam looked down at her hands absently, as if she forgot she was holding something. "Oh, it's for you, sweetie, a boy came by and dropped it off about an hour ago."

Helga held her breath, staring wild-eyed at her mother. "What?"

"Yeah," Miriam said, scratching at the side of her mouth. "Ar…thur? Artie? Ar—"

"Arnold?!" Helga croaked, striding up to her. She snatched the box away and pulled at the ribbon on top.

"Yeah, Arnold, that's right," Miriam cooed, waving a hand. "I asked him to come in but when I told him you were still sleeping he made a fuss and just left. I'll be downstairs sweetie. Merry Christmas."

Miriam pecked the top of her baby girl's forehead and treaded downstairs, leaving Helga alone with her surprise.

"Dammit, Football Head, right after I came to terms with your predictability," she muttered, sitting back down on her bed. Her blonde locks curled over her shoulders as she unwrapped the little gift, heart fluttering as she wondered what on earth was inside. Had he been planning this for a while, or was it a last-minute spur-of-the-moment guilt gift? Either way, it made her anxious. She chomped down on her bottom lip as she lifted the lid, revealing a folded piece of notebook paper.

_Dear Helga,_

_ I am still so sorry for dragging you into this mess. _

_ I didn't tell you at Rhonda's party the real reason why I was late—before I went to Izzy's, I picked up this gift for you at the antique shop. You know, the one we passed by on my birthday when we hung out. Thanks for that again, by the way. When you give me something, you really put your all into it, and I can never thank you enough. You're full of surprises, Helga Pataki—so I figured I would surprise you._

_ It's not much, and I know it's gonna take more than this to ever repay you, but I remembered you liking it a lot. Please enjoy. _

_ Merry Christmas Helga._

_ --Arnold._

_Aw no, no crying, keep it together girl, for God's sake_, Helga thought stubbornly as she lifted the decorative paper.

She gasped. On the felt pad laid a small, silver locket. It was rusted, hung on a fragile chain—very worn and a little dirty, but so intricately designed and beautiful. Glossy-eyed, Helga detached it from its captor, dangling it in front of herself, totally in awe. It must have been a good fifty years old, but it opened and closed with ease. Fully functional and classically lovely, completely ready to hold a picture of Arnold inside, the locket was more radiant than she remembered. She clenched her fingers around it and rested it in her lap. With a hopeful look to the ceiling, she muttered, "Merry Christmas, yutz."

**

A/N: A special thank you to _iceprincessforever_ for her shout-out to me in her story, _Because the Heart Never Lies_. She is a darling, so please check out her story if you haven't yet! Also a thank you to all of my readers and reviewers for being so patient and for sticking with my little saga. I hope all of you are doing well! You are extremely kind to me and I'm happy to say that I think I have the sweetest reviewers ever. I value your words more than I can say and am so glad that I can share my love for this brilliant show with you, in this way.


	25. Dear Journal

**Beforeword**

Feel free to throw rocks at me. This is long overdue. I'm sorry it's so short, but the upcoming chapters will be much longer/better, I promise.

**Disclaimer:** I don't make any cash off of this~

**Chapter 25:** Dear Journal

_December 31st, 2002_

_It's New Year's Eve._

_It's been a really long time since I've written anything in here...to be honest, between everything that's been going on, I kinda forgot I had this thing. It's kinda weird, because these past couple of months, I really needed somebody that I could tell absolutely everything to, and this journal is the only one I can trust with that._

_I went to court the other day, for Isabella's case. It was really uncomfortable...I never realized what a damaged, disturbed person Robbie is. It's actually really, really sad, and I feel terrible-for everyone involved. He was tried as an adult and even pleaded guilty, to my surprise. But to all of our relief, he's been put away. Finally._

_Isabella's devastated. She didn't talk to me or Helga after the trial, but she did hug Lila...I think that was all she wanted all along, for Lila to have gotten justice, but the way she did it...I don't think she realized at the time what it would do to her. I wish I knew everything she was feeling. Embarrassment, shame. Guilt. It really is my fault that this happened...if I didn't tell Helga to spy on them, if I didn't tell her to call the cops, maybe none of this would've happened...but it's too late to be thinking about that now. Lila told me that Izzy's going to move in with her Aunt Liz in the south and go to therapy after New Year's. I wonder if Izzy will tell me about that herself, but I'm not counting on it._

_Lila's doing okay, on the other hand. Better, now that Robbie's gone. I feel really bad though, because the couple that was going to adopt her baby bailed out. William and Richard got into this fight about one of their new job offers and split up right before Christmas. Richard was still gonna take the baby, but Lila doesn't want to leave it to a single parent, so they canceled the deal. It's really, really sad-because given her situation, it'll be hard to find a couple that'll adopt. I keep praying for her though...fifteen is too young to be raising a child-and the pregnancy wasn't her fault at all. I just hope someone will want the baby. It's gonna be a boy-Lila told me on the way home from court. If she doesn't find a couple to take him, I wonder if she'll keep him? I didn't ask...she had to answer enough uncomfortable questions that day._

_Nothing's been going on since the court date. I've barely left the boarding house the past couple of days. I've been so exhausted by everything that's happened; I actually slept for twenty hours yesterday. Good thing, since I'll be awake all night tonight...Rhonda's having a New Year's party, and I need a pick-me-up, so I'm gonna go with Helga. She actually convinced me to go-she's really glad this whole Robbie ordeal's over, so she jumped at the first chance to celebrate._

_I should really be more excited. I need a good night with friends..._


	26. Twenty Six

**Beforeword**: Yet another delay, I'm sorry guys! Being a performing arts major is very tolling on time, I hope you understand and thanks so much for your patience. Happy Spring Break. Also, note a mistake in the previous chapter-the date on Arnold's journal should be 2003, not 2002. Eff typos.

**Disclaimer**: I'm not making any cash off of this.

**Chapter 26**: Drunk

"Hey, Football Head! I'd like to be at Rhonda's before the _ball drops_, yeesh!"

Arnold laughed weakly, running down to meet Helga at the foot of his staircase. She looked extremely pretty in a black mini-dress. He grinned madly upon meeting her eyes.

"Hey," he offered.

She softened, waiting a moment before returning, "Hey yourself."

"You look really nice," he said brightly, looking her over. Helga fidgeted and took the compliment awkwardly before rushing him out of the boarding house.

"You know all the good stuff's always gone before eleven," she scoffed as they strolled down the street, tugging her coat tighter around. "I'm not tryin' to get stuck drinking Coors all night."

"Helga, it's barely nine-and I didn't know you were planning on drinking," he admitted apprehensively, striding closer to her on the sidewalk. She didn't shift away, but she picked up the pace.

With a snort, she rolled her eyes. "Please. After the week we've had, I think we need to."

"'We'?" Arnold repeated, nearly stopping, but Helga pulled him along.

"Yeah, why not? Maybe it'll get you pipe down," she teased.

Arnold chewed his lip, considering. He'd seen a good few of his friends drunk plenty of times-none of them were very pleasant sights, but perhaps Helga was right. Perhaps they did deserve to let go, just for tonight.

"Yeah," he said agreeably, confidence rising. "What's the worst that could happen?"

ii

It was a tad inappropriate for the hostess to drink before the party really started, Phoebe thought, watching Rhonda take swig after swig of the wine as they set up the refreshment table. Actually, if the truth be told, Phoebe thought drinking in itself was a tad inappropriate, at least for people underage.

And everyone attending this party was very underage.

"Erm, Rhonda?"

"Yeah, Phoebe?" she asked plainly between sips of Sangria.

"Don't you think the consumption of alcohol is a little...inconsonant?"

Rhonda turned to face her, wearing her best haughty expression. "Inconsonant? Really Phoebe, it's New Year's, and I'm Rhonda Wellington Lloyd. I'm pretty sure I can do whatever I want."

Nadine rolled her eyes at her statement, but took her best friend's side. "She does have a point, Pheebs. It's New Year's, lighten up!"

"Yeah Phoebe," Sheena chimed in, setting the champagne out. "Rhonda's parents are totally fine with it, and besides, the maids will be here all night to make sure we're alright!"

Phoebe sighed in obvious disapproval, unconvinced, but Rhonda went on.

"Alfred will be right upstairs the whole time. It's not like any of us are gonna die-plus, everyone at school does it. Hell, kids _younger_ than us are going out and getting drunk tonight-"

"That's true, some middle schoolers are known to party," Nadine said agreeably.

"And it's not like any of us are gonna go out and drive tonight," Sheena said in solace, but Phoebe wasn't any more at ease.

"I don't know, it just seems to me that alcohol gets many of us into complicated predicaments that can easily be avoided if-"

"Oh Phoebe, you really need to chill out," Rhonda said, clearly already buzzed. She paused for a moment, looking at the bottle she held, then gestured it to her. "Come on. Why don't you have a little sip?"

"Oh no, I couldn't-"

"Oh come on Phoebe," Nadine egged her on, slightly irritated.

"Just a little, Phoebe," Rhonda giggled, practically shoving the bottle at her. Phoebe scuttled to the other side of the room.

"No, really, I don't want to."

The girls exchanged glances, then Nadine cast Rhonda a sly look. "Should I pour a few glasses for us then? For a toast?"

Rhonda smacked her lips, her eyes on Phoebe. "Yeah. Just make sure you put _Sprite_ in Phoebe's."

"That's right," Nadine agreed, grabbing the Jack Daniels. "Since she thinks it's so _wrong_."

Eyebrows knitting together, Phoebe folded her arms, feeling the color rise in her cheeks.

"She can still toast without it," Sheena said, unoffending, as she took her glass. She stood between Rhonda and Nadine at the edge of the table as they readied their drinks.

Nadine raised hers. "Bottoms up!"

"Wait."

Rhonda's eyes brightened. Leaning on the table, she teased. "What, does little Phoebe wanna have some Jack?"

Fuming, she marched back across the room and poured herself a small glass, glaring at the others as she did so.

"That's the spirit." Nadine winked at her.

"See?" Sheena started, elbowing her. "No big deal!"

"I guess not," Phoebe muttered, staring into her glass.

"Happy New Year, ladies," Rhonda purred, and the four of them made a toast.

Phoebe felt the alcohol burn its path down her throat, but she didn't flinch.

iii

"You're sure you don't wanna go?"

Eugene felt Peter leering at him as he gazed outside, watching party-goers prance to different houses on the streets below his bedroom window. He smiled and shrugged.

"This is the last night I get to see you."

Peter drifted over to him and rested his head on his shoulder. "I know."

"I'd rather just chill out here with you, if you don't think that's too boring," Eugene proposed, grinning apologetically. Peter shook his head.

"That doesn't sound boring at all."

iiii

A typical New Year's Eve bash at Rhonda Lloyd's consisted of the following: two cases of wine coolers, upperclassmen who brought their own beer, music loud enough to sway the entire state of Washington, and three different pool tables set up in the den on the second floor. This year remained true to tradition, however, Arnold noticed an absence of the usual eighty or ninety unfamiliar faces and a surprising abundance of liquor at the refreshment table. When he pointed out these changes to the hostess, she stated that she felt "a more intimate celebration" would be best, considering the "rough past couple of weeks." Agreeing, Arnold thanked her for her hospitality as always and studied his various choices in liquor, wondering where a beginner should start. He was watching Sid and Stinky take shots of what looked like pineapple juice when Helga patted him on the shoulder.

"Wanna try a Copper Camel, Hair Boy?"

Arnold looked quizzical, earning himself a snort. "Or would you rather get a Fuzzy Navel?"

"Helga," he started uneasily, eyes darting between Sid and Stinky, "I don't even know what those are..."

"You've never had a drink in your life, have you Arnoldo?" she giggled, arching an eyebrow.

"You seem surprised," he said bashfully, feeling just a little bit like a loser. Sid and Stinky suddenly looked much older than he, linking elbows and trading shots as they laughed heartily.

"Trust me, I'm not," she said more softly, her mouth straightening. "Truthfully I'm _impressed_; you're sixteen, attending the high school with the worst rep in the entire _state_, and you've gone this far without ever having tasted alcohol-but unfortunately, that's about to change right now. Come here-"

Helga tugged on his shirtfront and brought him closer to the table, licking her lips in thought. Arnold looked stiffly at the different bottles and cases, wondering what she'd pick, hoping whatever it was wouldn't burn his throat.

"A-_ha_, this might be good." The blonde held up a less-intimidating pink bottle and grinned. "This stuff is great."

"What is it?" Arnold asked, scrunching his nose.

Helga shrugged. "Some French stuff. It has-" she squinted at the label, "-strawberries, champagne, and...some shit I can't pronounce. But I've had this before, it's good, trust me. Here."

She unscrewed the cap, which turned out to be a small shotglass, and poured a small amount inside. Smiling, she handed it to him delicately. "Drink it fast. Alcohol's not like water."

Arnold stared into the tiny glass and then downed it. There was an obvious tinge of strawberry, but the alcohol caught him off guard. It tasted fine, he supposed, but it wasn't as pleasant as he thought. He sputtered a little and Helga snatched away the little glass.

"Ah, dammit," she grunted. She set the bottle down and grabbed a can of Sprite and a taller, green bottle. "Grab that pitcher right there, Football Head."

"Is this Kool-Aid?" he asked, but Helga didn't answer. She took the three different drinks and poured them into a large mug: Sprite first, then Kool-Aid, then alcohol.

"There ya go, this should be better," she said confidently. Arnold took the mug, uncertain.

"Um, what's in this?" He tried smelling it and got a whiff of sour apples.

"Vodka," she answered. "Rhonda and I made this concoction in eighth grade. It tastes like liquified candy."

"I dunno, Helga..."

"You like Jolly Ranchers, don'tcha?" she snapped. "Try it!"

"Do I drink it fast or-"

"No, it's not straight, Arnoldo, just drink it like a regular old drink."

Arnold smacked his lips and took a long sip; to his surprise she was exactly right, it was as if he were drinking a Jolly Rancher. He grinned after swallowing, making her laugh triumphantly.

"You like it, Football Head?" she asked for good measure.

He nodded, taking another sip. "Yeah, Helga, this-this _is_ really good!"

"Awesome," she grinned devilishly. "Couple more cups of that and then you can graduate to Coke and rum-and then we'll have you drunk in no time."

iiiii

In Harold's experiences with parties, he had come to learn that there were five different types of drunks.

Stinky, for example, was what he called a "lazy drunk." Fun to be around when he got that first buzz, but after he's reached his limit, he's done talking. Get a few bottles of beer in him and he's glued to the couch for the rest of the night, drawling on about how tired he is or how that dang music is too dang loud, but he wouldn't go home, not until someone would notice him dozing off and help him walk home. Lame.

Curly was the "angry drunk." As a person, Gammelthorpe wasn't too intimidating; sure, he was tall, but without much meat on his limbs, and the glasses didn't do much for his macho. But after tequila, the guy was positively, horrifyingly crazy (more so than his normal self). God forbid you beat him at pool or a video game when he's intoxicated; he pushed one guy down the stairs the year before. He'd always apologize later, after he would sober up, but Curly wasn't somebody Harold wanted to get on the bad side of, not at a party.

Helga and Sheena, on the other hand, were definitely "happy drunks," laughing and giggling obnoxiously at everything after a few Jello shots. They would sling their arms around whoever they were talking to and retell stupid jokes from elementary school that weren't funny unless you were totally smashed. Harold was most envious of them, wishing alcohol had that effect on him. It was like nothing in the world was wrong with either of those two with a good buzz. Screw them.

Why'd he have to get stuck being a "sad drunk"? Why was it that all the bad feelings worsened tenfold every time he lost count of the beers? He tried to make it change; every time he got drunk, he hoped it'd feel different, hoped that he could turn into a Helga or a Stinky or hell, even a Curly-any of those would be better than feeling so depressed. There were several times when he'd have to find a broom closet to hide in until the tears would finally stop flowing, and that's where he wound up again tonight, sobbing into a glass of Captain Morgan, wishing he didn't just see Rhonda, the "slutty drunk," running around the mansion in her panties and macking on Sid. Curly wasn't gonna be too happy when he found out about that, drunk or not, but Harold was too selfish to think about how Curly would feel. What about how _Harold_ felt? Didn't Rhonda ever think about that? Didn't Rhonda think about how _Harold_ felt when she took him in her limo, when she hugged him, when she gave him that kitten? Didn't she think about that?

No, of course she didn't, Harold knew. Rhonda never thought about how anyone felt except herself. Rhonda Lloyd just did what she wanted. So Harold stayed in that broom closet, wondering to himself what exactly Rhonda did want, and hoping that somehow, it could maybe, possibly be him.

iiiiii

"How's it goin' there, Gerald?"

Perking up, Gerald met Stinky, striding up into the Billiards room with an empty beer can in hand. Gerald scratched at the back of his neck, shaking his head.

"Phoebe had a little too much champagne," he explained awkwardly.

"I thought Phoebe wadn't inta drinkin'?" Stinky recalled, but Gerald shook his head.

"I'm thinkin' the girls gave her a hard time about never drinking, so she tried it out to get 'em off her back."

Stinky wrinkled his nose, lifting his beer can to his lips. He made a face when there was nothing left in it to sip and continued, "Well that ain't seem right. Phoebe shouldn' feel like she has to do anything."

"They're not usually so pressing, but I'm sure they were drinking some before the party started, so..."

Striding up to where Gerald sat in the doorway to the hall, Stinky bent his head to see if Phoebe would emerge from the restroom, but she didn't appear. He sighed. "I sure hope she don't feel too sick. What about you, Gerald? Ain't you drinkin' nothin'?"

Gerald half-smiled and crossed his arms. "Nah. I had a little bit but when I heard my girl and Arnold both were drinking, I figured I should stay clean in case they get messy."

Stinky grinned widely and slid down on the wall next to him, crushing his empty can. "That's right nice o' ya, Gerald. I reckon I oughta do the same for Sid one a these days, on accounta he gets a little raunchy when he drinks."

"Raunchy?"

Sighing, Stinky repeated, "A little raunchy, yeah. He was lettin' Rhonda give him a sorta strip dance downstairs-"

Gerald's eyes flew open. "A _what_?"

"A strip dance," Stinky said again, hoping it sounded clearer this time. "Ya know, she's dancin' on him in her panties. I reckoned I oughta get outta there in case Curly comes in." He chuckled, closing his eyes and imagining him crying on the kitchen floor like a little girl. Curly got so ravingly emotional when he drank that it was highly comical.

But Gerald didn't seem to think that any of this was very funny, as he jolted up from the floor with a panicked look. "Stinky, can you just stay here a minute in case Pheebs comes outta there?"

Shrugging, Stinky agreed. "Sure thing, Gerald."

"Great, I'm gonna go try and pull Rhonda off Sid before Curly finds her, kay?"

"You go 'head and do that, Gerald, I'll be right here," Stinky yawned, and watched as Gerald dashed down into the living room. Leaning back on the wall, Stinky's eyes drooped shut, and he nodded off before he could hear the fight that was soon to erupt.

iiiiiii

"-I just don't even get it, how could you even-"

"-it was just a _kiss_, Oh my God-"

"-oh it was a lot more than _that_, Rhonda!-"

"-you are _so_ overreacting-"

"-you're practically naked-"

"-I still have my panties on-"

"-you were giving him a _lap dance_-"

"-oh _please_ Curly-"

"-no, you know what, no, I don't have to deal with this-"

"-Curly, stop it, calm down, you're drunk-"

"-don't tell me to freaking calm down Rhonda, you're drunk too!-"

"-no shit, Sherlock, we're _all_ drunk! Why can't you shut up and forget it?"

"I can't! How am I supposed to trust you! And to _Sid_-"

"Oh my God what does it matter?"

"What does it _matter_? Seriously? Oh my God, Rhonda, screw it, whatever I'm out-"

"Curly, don't leave-"

"I'm leaving-"

"Curly, wait, I'm sorry, please don't go like this-"

There was a loud grunt, followed by a small shriek, presumably from Rhonda, and an ear-shattering slam from the very front door. Harold opened his eyes slowly, hearing the thick tension in the silence. He blinked, wondering why he wasn't hearing any music or seeing any light spilling from the crack in the door. His legs felt like jelly as he stood up and slowly pushed the closet door open, seeing nothing in the darkness other than lights from some cell phones.

He didn't know how far Rhonda was, but he heard Helga a few feet away. "Come on Princess, it's fine, you'll both forget about it by tomorrow-let's go upstairs and get you in a robe before the ball drops-"

"Is everyone okay?" Harold heard Gerald ask. "We all here?"

"I think so," Phoebe answered him.

"Where's Harold at?" Sid's voice came from farther off. "I haven't seen him since like, ten-"

"I'm right here," Harold droned loudly. "Why's all the lights out?"

"Power outage," Arnold answered, sounding very close. His words were a little slurred as he explained, "Everything went out after Curly and Rhonda started fighting."

"Is Rhonda okay?" he asked without thinking.

"Helga just took her upstairs, she'll be okay when she comes back down," Arnold told him encouragingly. "Everyone's just kind of disoriented, it'll be fine once we sober up. Do you need a seat, Harold?"

Nodding, Harold let Arnold hold his arm and guide him to the living room, where Sheena and Nadine had lit some candles. The biggest armchair felt like it was swallowing him, but Harold felt comfortable. "Why'd the lights all go out, Ar-nold?"

"Not sure," he answered calmly. "I called my Grandpa and he said everything's down over there too, so it must be the whole neighborhood."

Harold felt his eyes drooping. "I wanna go sleep, Ar-nold."

"You can sleep Harold, s'okay. We're all gonna stay here until the power comes back on, okay?"

Harold nodded slowly, closing his eyes and remembering the time the power went out when he was really small. He thought fairies were stealing the lights from the city, but his mother told him that fairies weren't real and that the electricity just failed. "Night Mommy."

Arnold sniggered softly and patted his shoulder. "Night, Harold."

iiiiiiii

"I mean, what you do when you're drunk doesn't even really count, right? Am I right?"

Helga groaned, using the light from her phone's screen to find a robe somewhere in Rhonda's closet. "You shouldn't have gotten that drunk, Princess."

"Oh, so you're on _his_ side now?" Rhonda screeched, glaring daggers at her.

"_No_," Helga retorted, snatching a leapord-print robe, "I'm just saying you should understand why Curly's upset. Yeah, you guys are drunk, but still, that hurt his feelings. Just apologize tomorrow when you can think straight, okay?"

She tossed the robe at Rhonda, who then wrapped it around herself and stood up, ready to follow her back downstairs, but stumbled.

"Whoa, hey, hey," Helga muttered, steadying her. "You alright?"

"Yeah, my freakin' head just hurts," Rhonda grunted.

"Ya want me to get you some Advil or something, _Princess_?"

Rhonda waved a hand and gave a hollow laugh. "Oh it's all the way downstairs, don't worry 'bout it-"

Helga lowered her eyelids and sighed. "You stay here, I'll go get the meds-"

"But who will keep me company?" she whined, plopping down on her bed.

"I'll get Nadine up here, okay?" Helga told her. "Now shut up and lay down."

Rhonda muttered something incomprehensible as Helga turned around the hallways and headed for the staircase, guided again by her phone and her hands on the walls. She called to Nadine when she reached the bottom and sent her up, then sauntered into the kitchen, her mind still unsettled from all the alcohol. The light on her phone flickered when she reached the doorway, signaling a low battery, then went out entirely, leaving Helga in complete darkness.

"Oh, Criminey," she groused, but continued carefully walking through anyway. The cabinet for medicine was near the sink, but Helga wasn't aware of the vodka spill that'd been on the floor there. Before she could reach the little door, Helga slipped and landed flat on her back, cursing at the newfound stabbing pain in her ankle. Some idiot dropped an entire bottle and hadn't cleaned the mess of broken glass.

Footsteps thundered into the kitchen immediately, carrying hushed gasps with them. Helga craned her neck to see who'd come to find her, and was all too delighted when she made out Arnold's head in the shadows.

A soft candlelight inched her way and she moved to get up, but Arnold stopped her. "Whoa whoa, wait, Helga, wait, don't move-"

"Don't get too close Football Head, unless you want some glass in your foot-"

"Glass?" he croaked. "Crap, don't move Helga, we're gonna clean this up-"

"Oh, yeah, good luck doing that in the pitch _dark_-"

"Don't be a smart-ass, Helga, are you hurt?" he asked, after whispering instructions to a couple of other friends.

"Doi, I'm bleeding profusely and this glass hurts like a bitch, so hurry up with your rescue team and make sure Princess gets some Advil."

"Nadine's got Rhonda, don't worry about it-should we call 911?"

"It's not that serious you _dolt_, wait a minute," Helga grimaced, moving her aching leg around, feeling where the glass pierced. "Just a little piece of stupid glass-just get me a freakin' First Aid kit, pronto!"

Gerald came into the kitchen with a mop and a dust pan, followed by Sheena with two more candles. Arnold moved cautiously toward Helga, making his best effort not to slip and fall on glass himself, and hoisted her up.

"Can you stand on your own, Helga?"

"What do _you_ think?" she spat, grateful that he probably couldn't catch her knowing smirk in the dim light.

"Okay-okay, you know what, I'll carry you-"

Her smirk grew even wider but she asked, "Arnold, you're still kinda drunk, are you sure you can-"

"I didn't have _that_ much, Helga, just swing your arm over my shoulder-"

The dreamy whimper that slipped from her throat went unnoticed as Arnold heaved her into his arms. Helga closed her eyes and rolled her head onto his chest as he carried her shakily out of the kitchen, entirely grateful that she could blame anything that she did tonight on being under the influence. When she opened them again, she was lying on a lounge chair in the mansion's sunroom, with everything around her illuminated by the moon, streetlights, and premature fireworks. Arnold's face in the light was flushed and a little sweaty. She sighed softly, admiring his arms in the rolled-up sleeves and unruly mess of hair, wondering how long she'd been staring when he finally asked how badly her ankle hurt.

"Huh?" she squeaked, blinking.

"Your ankle Helga, how bad's it feel," he repeated, more worriedly this time.

"Oh-criminey-" she breathed, wincing in her almost-forgotten pain. Shifting in her seat was a terrible idea.

"It's not a bad laceration," he said slowly, clearly thinking about his words as he gathered a few things out of the kit. "I am gonna have to put some of this stinging stuff on it, so just relax, okay Helga?"

"You sure you're not too drunk to do this crapola?" she asked in all seriousness, honestly wary of his present capabilities.

"Helga-"

"Okay, okay fine, do whatever, Arnoldo, just make it fast-" she said quickly, squeezing her eyes shut. Her ankle felt cooled by the peroxide, but within a few seconds a searing burn shot right through her. She didn't hear herself scream, but Arnold patiently calmed her.

"Hey, hey, shh, it's okay, you're okay," he whispered soothingly. "I'm gonna wrap you up and it'll be fine, okay? Bear with me, Helga-"

She screeched again and again and keeping still in the chair suddenly became the biggest challenge in the world, but the pain subsided as Arnold's hands massaged around her wound, securing the medical wrapping. He rubbed her leg soothingly when he had finished, smiling warmly as he watched her slowly calm down. Breathing felt much easier as she laid back, closing her eyes as she resisted smiling.

"Thanks, Arnold."

"No problem, Helga."

"What time is it?" she asked off-handedly.

He checked his phone. "It's quarter til."

She paused before continuing. "Hey Arnold..."

"Yeah?"

"Wanna get us something else to drink?"

"...Sure, I'll be right back."

A small, devious grin stretched across her face.

iiiiiiiii

By the time Rhonda tottered downstairs, the electricity had returned and mostly everyone had gathered into the living room for the countdown. Dulled by her headache and emotional crisis, she was focused not on watching the ball drop, but on finding more alcohol to drown her sorrows in. Curly called her not even five minutes before to tell her that they shouldn't see each other for a few days, and she honestly didn't know how much more she could take. Rather than lash out, she hung up on him and popped open the last bottle of champagne. She nearly knocked it over when Harold appeared at the other end of the liquor table.

"Jesus, Harold!" she cried, clutching her glass.

"I'm sorry Rhonda," he said sadly. "I was just looking for more Captain Morgan-"

"It's fine, Harold," she insisted, starting for the staircase, but Harold grabbed her arm.

"I didn't get to thank you yet," he drawled, pulling her closer.

"Thank me?" she repeated, mind cloudy. "What for?"

"The cat," he answered, half-smiling. "It was really really nice of you."

"Oh, it was nothing," she said patently, twisting her arm to get out of his grasp, but he held her tighter.

"No it wasn't," he argued, suddenly sounding very angry as he sniffled. The voice of Holly Buddy from Channel Five News was blaring through the sound system in the living room; the countdown was going to begin in less two minutes. "I know you wouldn't do that for just anybody, Rhonda-"

"Harold, I was just being nice," she tried to explain, feeling a hard lump forming in her throat.

"Oh _please_, Rhonda, don't gimme that crap," Harold whined. A minute and forty-five seconds until the countdown started. "I _know_ you like me, I know you don't wanna admit it, but I know you like me, or else you wouldn't do all this nice stuff for me-"

"Harold, you're _drunk_, you don't know what you're talking about," she asserted, sniffling as well. He slammed a fist on the table, making her flinch.

"No, Rhonda! I _do_ know! I know you like me-"

"Just because I do things doesn't mean they mean anything-" she tried explaining, but her head hurt so much and she was so dizzy and her tears didn't make it any easier to meet his eyes.

"Yeah they do, you just don't know how to tell me-"

"Harold, please, stop this," she pleaded, wrenching her arm from his hold. Less than one minute until the countdown.

"No Rhonda, it's about time you know I like you too, and even if you're afraid to say it, I'm not," he blurted, reaching for her again, but she backed away. Thirty seconds until the countdown.

She felt like she was going to be sick. "Harold, can we not do this right now-"

"No, no we're gonna do this, we need to, you need to tell me right now if you like me or not-"

The countdown was going to start in ten, nine, eight-

Rhonda grabbed Harold's shoulders and kissed him fully on the mouth.

iiiiiiiiii

He figured he'd probably change his mind come morning, but watching fireworks before the countdown to 2004 in Rhonda Lloyd's sunroom, drunk, with Helga G. Pataki, was the happiest Arnold ever felt. Every explosion of purple, blue, red, and green light in the sky before them earned an exaggerated giggle and Arnold hadn't noticed until then that Helga had a really sweet, girlish giggle. He was about to tell her in his stupor that she should giggle more often, but he heard a voice from inside the mansion-the countdown was going to begin.

"Helga," he started, staring widely at her, "it's almost time!"

"Time for what?" she laughed, finishing off another Smirnoff.

"The countdown, Helga-it's almost midnight!" He grabbed her shoulders for emphasis, he was so sure she forgot what time it was.

Gaping at him, Helga breathed, "It's almost 2004."

Furrowing his brow, he admitted sadly, "I feel so old," as if sixteen could really be so very old. Helga disagreed.

"You're not _old_, Hair Boy-man this alcohol really got to ya-"

Like it was the funniest notion he'd heard, Arnold dissolved into chuckles, his hands dropping from her shoulders to her lap. He barely felt her hands grasp his as the voices from inside began counting down. Helga told him that the ball was going to drop, but he was focused instead on something else, something she was wearing.

"Oh, Helga, that's pretty," he reached for her neck, but she slapped his hand before skin met skin.

"_Hey_, watch where your hands are going, you _ass_hat-"

"Your necklace," he said quietly, fascinated by the familiar pendant on her chest. He swore he'd seen it earlier that evening but just couldn't remember.

"Oh-yeah, that," Helga replied, the bite now absent from her tone. "You got it for me, Arnold, for Christmas."

Arnold blinked at her. "I did?"

"Yeah, you did," she answered, smiling with the corner of her mouth. He looked at the little heart-shaped piece again and shook his head, finally remembering his purchase at the antique shop.

"Yeah!" he exclaimed, ignoring the chanting of numbers from inside. "Yeah, I remember-you like it, huh? I don't think I asked you that earlier..."

Helga nodded, also appearing to disregard the noise. Faintly, Arnold heard the numbers "five" and "four" being shouted behind the door, but he didn't think to ask Helga if she wanted to go watch the ball drop. For whatever reason, watching the parties on television with the rest of their friends didn't seem very important. For whatever reason, Arnold couldn't focus much on anything other than the fact that his face was dangerously, dangerously close to Helga's, and he could smell her perfume and the vodka she was drinking, and-

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The ear-shattering hollers of their friends pierced every thought bubble inside Arnold's head as they paraded into the sunroom, banging pots and pans and playing kazoos and whistles. The fireworks blazed over the city, screeching and thundering as everyone cheered and laughed, drunk and elated. Gerald bounced over to the lounge chair and engulfed him in a choking hug, slurring his words and waving a bottle of who-knows-what around in the air. Disturbed by the all the noise, Arnold scrambled inside to the living room, unaware that Helga had followed him until-

"Whassamatter, yutz, too loud for your aching head to handle?"

He whirled around. "Helga-"

"Listen bucko, I think we need to get you home before-"

Before what, exactly, Arnold didn't find out, because her thought was cut off by his lips crashing into her mouth.


	27. Twenty Seven

**Beforeword**: Thank you for your sweet reviews! I'm so sorry that updates take forever, but you guys are wonderful for being so patient.

**Disclaimer**: Hey Arnold! = not mine.

**Chapter 27**

Helga didn't remember much of what happened after the kiss. The kiss itself, she recalled perfectly: Arnold cupping her face in his hands, the smell of alcohol, the softness of his mouth. How time seemed to have stopped, if only for a few moments. It was a quick embrace, and Arnold looked stunned with himself when they met eyes. Everything that proceeded, though, was a blur. Gerald must have walked him home, the party must have continued, and Alfred must have coaxed her into finally going to sleep in one of the guest rooms at some ungodly hour in the morning. But as far as what they said to each other, as far as who saw it or who knew about it, Helga had no idea. This was potentially problematic, but with a headache so monstrous, she had no strength to care.

Sunlight was peeking through the blinds of the guest room, shining through Helga's eyelids and stirring her awake. She pulled the sheets over her head, but she heard the door creak open.

"Helga?"

She curled herself into a ball under the silky blue blankets. "Mmmph."

"Are you feeling okay?"

"That you, Pheebs?" she mumbled, under the covers.

She felt a weight at the very end of the king-sized bed. "Yeah. Good morning, Helga."

"Thought Geraldo took you home?"

"I suppose I insisted on staying over last night," she explained. "He called me this morning to recount my rambuncious behavior."

"Cute." Helga rolled over and poked her head up. "Rhonda still asleep?"

Phoebe shook her head. "Curly's here. He wanted to talk about what happened last night."

"He sure she's in a good enough state to talk?" Helga rubbed an eye.

"It seems calm so far," Phoebe told her. "She wanted me to come in and wake you up so we could leave them entirely alone."

"Don't gotta tell _me_ twice," Helga grunted, crawling out of the bed. "I'd rather not be around in case she blows up again."

Phoebe followed her downstairs and helped her find her purse in the mess that the maids had started cleaning in the spare room. When Helga was buttoning up her coat, screeches from upstairs echoed in the halls and Phoebe sighed and they headed promptly out of the mansion, feeling only slightly guilty for not bidding the maids goodbye.

Snow was falling softly as the two trotted side-by-side, their arms linked as Helga felt dizzy from the headache. Decorative lights and banners were being taken down on the streets and far less people were scurrying around than the night before.

Despite feeling like a tumor was forming at the front of her brain, Helga appreciated the sudden calm atmosphere more than she could express, but Phoebe ruined it just a bit by asking, abruptly, "So what happened with you last night?"

"Me?" she almost squeaked, feet slipping. Phoebe steadied her.

"Yeah, I don't remember seeing you much at all after I got highly intoxicated," Phoebe said plainly. "Did you have a good time?"

"Well_ yeah_, I mean I-er-I guess so-"

"Gerald told me you were with Arnold most of the night," she breathed eagerly. "Were you really?"

Helga felt her cheeks getting hot, but shook her head. "_No_! I mean-well-I guess we might've hung out_ some_ of the time-"

"Really?" Phoebe giggled, squeezing her arm. "That's positively _stirring_! Did you discuss anything particularly ponderous?"

Bewildered, Helga just blinked. "I don't_ know_, Pheebs, we didn't do much talking-"

The smaller girl gasped. "Did you guys hook up?"

Taken aback, Helga lost her footing completely and wound up on her bottom on the icy part of the sidewalk within seconds of Phoebe's question. Kneeling down, Phoebe instantly apologized.

"Oh dear-I'm so sorry Helga, are you okay?"

"Judas_ priest_, Phoebe, can you say shit a little _quieter_? Yeesh! I don't need people knowing about-about-"

"You did, didn't you?" Phoebe repeated, much softer this time.

Helga hissed, figuring the shade of crimson on her face was completely giving her away anyway, so she didn't bother denying it. Scrambling to her feet, she rambled through her teeth, "If you tell a soul, Phoebe, I mean it, even a_ single soul_-"

"Oh Helga-"

"I swear to the God of all that is science-fiction and geek-related-"

"Helga, it's okay, I understand," Phoebe promised, holding her shoulders when she managed to stand up straight. "I'm your very best friend, you don't have to threaten me to keep me quiet!"

Sighing, Helga rolled her eyes, knowing she shouldn't have been so harsh. "I know, I know. I'm sorry Pheebs. You just-I just, you know-"

"I know," she said, smiling faintly. "I know. Come on, we're almost home."

ii

_Good morning, afternoon, or evening, you've reached Elena Hawkins. I am either unable or unwilling to take your call at the moment, so please leave a message.** Beep**._

"Hi, Elena, it's me Liz. Just wanted to let you know Isabella's doing fine. Hey uh, listen, if you could tell me exactly why Robbie's in jail-Izzy won't talk about it-I'd really appreciate it. Hope you had a good New Year's! Call me back, bye."

iii

Rhonda sat cross-legged at the head of her bed, sniffling hard (Curly offered her a Knleenex, but she refused). Her unhinged bedroom door creaked (she'd broken it from slamming it too hard when Curly tried to leave); "Recollections" from Rats was playing on a loop from the open music box (she'd thrown it across the room, missing Curly's head by inches during their argument). She choked on her heavy, crying gasps, and Curly made several motions to join her on the bed, but she would hiss and sputter like an angry feline, so he stayed glued to his spot by her closet. He was crying too, but Rhonda hadn't noticed until he finally spoke after what felt like ages.

"I don't know how to make you happy anymore, Rhonda." His voice was leaden, tired. Rhonda lifted her head, her face burning when she saw his wet cheeks.

She wiped her face, fingers blackening from the leftover makeup. Clearing her throat a few times, she managed to tell him, "I can't change who I am, Curly."

Fresh tears streamed from under the rims of his glasses as he shook his head. "I never asked you to change. Just to be a better person."

"Why does it always come back to me not being good enough?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"Because you're not," he said brazenly. "You're dishonest and worse, confused-"

"Oh _please_," Rhonda laughed hollowly. "I am not confused about _anything_-"

"You don't even know it!" he grated, tugging at his black hair. "You have no idea how to handle your feelings, you aren't even sure of _what_ you're feeling!"

Rhonda's fists twisted in her bed sheets, resisting the desperate need to throw something else at him. She settled for staring knives at him, biting at her lip while he just stared back. They barely blinked at each other. She wanted to retort, give him some kind of believable explanation for this, for everything, but there was nothing. There was no excuse for cheating. She was in the wrong, not just the night before, but all along. Curly knew that she knew.

His words came in a hiccup when he spoke again. "I think we should stop seeing each other."

Several lumps formed in her throat as she felt her eyes water up again.

"If you're sure you really want me, and just me, maybe then we can try again, Rhonda."

She didn't watch him leave. She hid her face in a pillow, and when she didn't feel his presence anymore, she wept away, more loudly and fiercely than during their fight, until she finally fell asleep.

iiii

He was growing already. Well, maybe not, maybe he was just getting healthier, Harold supposed. He had been a stray kitten after all, so he probably didn't get to eat very much living on the streets. Harold guessed that he could be over-feeding him, but he was sure there was no harm in spoiling him a little. He grinned, chuckling as Pumpkin devoured his tuna, mewing happily away. Pumpkin was a lot more vocal than Cupcake was, and a lot less messy (which Harold's mother greatly appreciated), but a lot about them seemed to be the same. Pumpkin was just as lovable, just as affectionate, just as adventurous. He even curled up in Harold's lap the same way.

"You like it here, don'tcha?" Harold cooed, scratching the tiny cat behind his ears. He purred appreciatively.

"I knew ya would," Harold told his pet. "I think she knew too, Pumpkin."

The kitten paused and rubbed his head across Harold's arm, agreeing with him.

iiiii

Precious clawed at Big Bob's recliner, mewing and fussing as Helga swung her legs back and forth over the arm of it, tossing handfuls of popcorn in her mouth as she flipped through television channels.

"What?" she grumbled, chewing open-mouthed. "You're not getting any popcorn, cat. Or do you think somebody's outside?"

Precious rubbed her body against the chair and whined some more, so Helga grunted and slid out of her comfortable position to see if someone was waiting outside. She stepped into her house slippers and pulled her pink sweatshirt tighter and stalked into the foyer. Before there was even a knock, Helga pulled the front door open and saw Arnold making his way to her stoop.

He looked up at her, eyes wide and watery from the wintry wind blowing in his face. "Oh-Helga-"

"Arnold-"

He rushed up the steps, shivering in his coat as he looked her over. "May I-?"

"Uh-I-sure, uh-" she stammered, sliding aside so that he could enter. He stamped his feet on the welcome mat and shook the snow of his wild golden hair, face red from either the cold or the leftover embarrassment of the night before. Helga fiddled with the pink ribbon around her wrist and watched him take off his coat, wanting desperately to be the first to say something but going completely blank in the mind.

"Thanks, um-"

She tightened up, arching an eyebrow as she asked, "So what brings _you_ here, Football Head? Thought you'd be outta commission given the night _you_ had-"

"I thought I would be too," Arnold admitted, rubbing his nose to warm it up, "but Grandma gave me this hangover cure-some secret family recipe-"

"What's in it?"

"Truthfully, I'd rather not know," Arnold said shakily, his mouth turning downward. "It didn't taste too bad, but you know Grandma..."

Helga folded her arms, leading him into the living room. She pointed to the sofa and watched him take a seat as she slid back into the recliner herself. Pulling at the strings of her sweatshirt, feigning distraction, she said, "You didn't answer my question yet, Arnoldo."

"Oh." Arnold began picking at his fingers. "I wanted to talk to you about last night."

Helga's heart leapt, but she looked unfazed. She studied him through half-lidded eyes, determined not to make a big deal out of anything. "What about it?"

"I remember-you remember me kissing you," his voice quivered, "right?"

"You kissing me?" she repeated carelessly, shoving popcorn into her mouth.

"At midnight, yeah," he said, looking anywhere around the room but at her.

"Yeah, Football Head, I guess I _do_ remember," she said tartly, ignoring the chills running down her back.

"I wanted to-" he began, wetting his lips and then biting at them. "I just-I..."

"What, Arnold? It's no big deal," she lied, sinking in her seat. "You don't need to apologize or anything." She didn't look at him either, instead picked up the cat and made her settle in her lap, stroking her absent-mindedly as Arnold attempted to spit words out.

"I'm not apologizing for anything," he said uneasily.

She glanced up curiously and then shook her head. "Okay, so _what_? I told you it's no big deal."

"Yeah it is, Helga," he said honestly, looking at Precious rather than her. "It is to both of us, we just-always avoid talking about it-"

"Got no clue what you mean, Arnoldo," she lied, stroking the cat a little too hard. She growled.

"Yes you do, Helga," Arnold told her sternly, finally looking at her. "This isn't the first time this happened and truthfully-"

Helga met his face, swallowing hard, noting the sweat on his forehead and the bags under his eyes. He must not have slept well, if he'd slept at all.

"I don't think it'll be the last," he finished, breathing sharply.

"What's_ that_ supposed to mean?" she asked defensively, fidgeting in her seat. Precious got uncomfortable and jumped out of her lap, tail swinging back and forth in annoyance.

"You know, Helga," he told her, eyes shining. "Isn't it obvious now? The kisses, the attention, all the time we spend together-"

She bolted upright, scoffing incredulously, but Arnold went on.

"I've been trying to get you to confess to me forever," he blurted out, a very faint smile brightening his face.

Helga's stomach dropped so fast she thought for sure she was about to vomit. She leapt out of the recliner and strode up to where he then stood.

"Confess _what_, Football Head?" she shouted at him, curling a fist in his shirt. "You have no idea what I feel about_ anything_, don't you even_ think_ about-"

"You_ like_ me, Helga!" He said it almost victoriously, like it was a winning answer on Jeopardy. She blinked, feeling her face getting dark red and tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"I thought if I tried, I could get you to tell me yourself," he said after a pause more softly this time. He touched the hand that clutched at his collar.

She didn't loosen her grip, but her arms and knees were getting weak. "Arnold..."

"I just wanted to tell you," he started, "I like you too, and I think we can make this work if you stop hiding..."

Helga didn't let go. Rather than release him, she made another fist in his shirt, and kissed him fully on the mouth, with all her might. She sighed her smallest, sweetest sigh when he wrapped his arms about her waist and pressed his lips hard into hers.

iiiiii

_Hey you've reached Liz! If I don't pick up in two seconds, call the house phone! If I didn't answer the house phone, try again or leave me a message! **Beep**._

"Hey Liz, it's me...I guess you're on shift right now...listen, about Robbie...I'll try calling again so we can talk about it. I think we should talk about Isabella and Eddie too. Talk to you soon."


End file.
